A brave new Pairing
by sweetnessnme
Summary: Elizabeth Hawke is thrust in a political and dangerous upheaval. All the while losing everyone she holds dear. Will she find her glimmer of hope in the most unlikely of places? Can a Qunari Warlord and a Fereldan refugee battle the odds and come out on top? Or is their relationship doomed? What surprises are in store for our couple?
1. Chapter 1

_Maker, he is BIG!_

The Arishok stood a towering seven feet tall, with his horns already intimidating enough, making him seem bigger. Elizabeth Hawke had met the Qunari war leader several times before, had meetings and scratched on the surface of friendship, if not camaraderie. She would never admit out loud how terrified she was the first time she met him, keeping a cool and confident exterior while her insides were doing backflips and somersaults. He, however, remained calm, and when she was able to get him to utter more than a few syllables at a time she realized he was very intelligent.

She started coming around more to have philosophical debates, because let's face it, no matter how hard she tried, he or she (usually both) would lose their temper with the other and then an argument would ensue. She was usually the one arguing; he'd snap out some Qunlat then dismiss her like she was a bug on his shoulder. She'd yell more, louder, throwing some nasty names around, and storm off – only to return a few days later as if nothing happened, and it would start all over again.

Her friends did not approve, and that was putting it mildly. It started with little comments about where she went off to, then why she was there with those Qunari, or 'heathens', as Sebastian would say. She would always brush it off or give vague responses.

It didn't fool them. They ambushed her one night after a mission to the Bone Pit to clear it out and send the laborers back to work, promising that they would get raises and be protected.

"Hawke, you know we care about you. We don't want to see you get hurt," Varric stated, in one of his rare serious moments. It was always hard to get mad at Varric, so when it happened it was usually for a very good reason. This felt like one of those times – they had ambushed her! Each companion took their turn telling platitudes then damning her intelligence for befriending 'monsters'.

"Sister, when Carver died there was a hole, like something was missing in our lives. Same when Father passed. We lost Mother, too, not physically, but she is not the same mother we grew up with and knew. She is almost cold and distant, like she knows she is to lose more, and it scares me. I fear the Templars every second of every day. The only times I do not fear so much is when I'm with you." Reaching out her hand to hold Hawke's across the table from her, Bethany continued. "Lately you are always gone, all hours of the day and night –"

"How is that my fault? I am doing any and all jobs I can find for coin for this blasted Deep Roads expedition! My jobs _require_ me at all times of the day or night, and I don't bring you along because as of late there are a few Templar-Mage jobs. I can't and won't put you at risk! Anders is a better healer, anyway, and as a Grey Warden they can't take him as easily as they can you."

"I know, I know, Sister, but there are times when you leave and aren't doing jobs. You are going down to the docks and being among _them_. It's not right. What would Carver say? What would Father say?"

Bethany knew Hawke was angry almost from the beginning, and she had found a sound argument against everything they had said. So Bethany brought out the big guns: Hawke had cared deeply for the men in their family and cared about everything they said or thought. Now, sitting here, seeing her bow her head in shame, Bethany finally breathed a sigh of relief. That had done it; they had finally gotten through to her.

Bethany looked at the others around the table, seeing all different expressions of relief and joy on a few faces, but one, Isabela, didn't look relieved. She was staring at Hawke with slight fear in her eyes. There was a scraping sound of a chair moving on the wood floor. Bethany turned back to her sister, who was standing with her hands balled into fists and a hard look in her eyes. She glared daggers all around the room at every one of her companions, finally resting them on Bethany, who flinched from her.

"I will say this once, so listen closely. I do not appreciate your misguided attempts to control my decisions, nor my life. I run a family and provide for them, and get extra coin for each of you. I have never asked or begged for any of your help, nor advice in my affairs. You all have offered to help or tag along. I have helped all of you in one way or another. I have never told you how you should run your lives and I have only given when asked! So how _dare_ any of you think you can do what I have not? I have not asked for your permission or opinions on my personal life. If you don't like it, tough. There's the door. I already have a mother I do not need anymore. Dear Sister, as to your question, I don't give a nug's uncle what Carver would say because he would do nothing but complain all the time, anyway."

Bending down, with her hands resting on the table and her face inches away from Bethany's, looking straight in her eyes, she finished, "As for Father, Bethany, he is dead. But even so, he was a friend to all: Templars - as we learned after whom Carver was named - Mage, noble, beggar, elf, dwarf, Orlesian, Antivan, Qunari, and even unknowns. Father was not a close-minded bigot like you. He knew we are all different, but we all think, and we all feel. To sit there and think you are better than anyone else because of the color of your skin makes me sick, and I don't think I have time for people like you."

With that, Hawke stood up to her full height of five foot seven and turned on her heels. Walking out, she called over her shoulder to the others, "The same goes for the rest of you." Finishing, she slammed the door shut behind her.

Elizabeth heard Bethany crying behind her, and the gasps of surprise and sighs of resignation from the others as she left the room. She didn't care. She hated surprises and being bombarded like that by people she thought were her friends. The funny thing was, though, not one of them said they loved her, not even her sister, whom she had fought tooth and nail to protect since she was born.

Not realizing where she had walked, she turned around and noticed she'd come all the way to the docks, seeing the tall gate and two Qunari standing post. Taking a deep breath, she walked up the steps to the gate. Looking at both guards, she was pretty sure she didn't know them.

"I request to see the Arishok," she said to neither in particular. A grunt answered her as one disappeared into the compound, closing the gate behind him. Waiting was uncomfortable, what with the silent, intimidating Qunari glaring at her.

The gate opened again to show the Qunari who had left them. He opened the gate wider. "Enter, Bas," he grunted.

Hawke walked in, following the giant into the compound that she was now becoming familiar with, up the steps, past the throne on which the Arishok normally sat. She was ushered to a tent not far behind. When she entered, it was a tall, circular, canvas tent, not too large. Something one would find on the battlefield. In the center of the tent was the post that held it up, and strung to it was an elf in rags, kneeling on the floor. The Arishok sat at a desk just beyond, deep in paperwork, scrolls and parchments that were littered across the desk. Books were stacked high on it, as well as on the floor. The Qunari grunted, fisting his hand over his heart, and bowed slightly before turning to leave.

It was quiet for a while. Hawke looked around, wondering if she should sit or stand.

"Sit," came the guttural command.

Hawke turned around in a complete circle looking for somewhere to sit, but the only chair, it seemed, was the one the Arishok was in. Scratching the back of her head quizzically, she sighed, and looked up to see the Arishok watching her with a half-annoyed, half-almost-entertained look on his face. She giggled slightly. "I would if I could, but …" She threw her hands in the air then dropped them on her hips, looking at the giant again with a smirk on her face.

The Arishok looked down at a pile of pillows, grunting. She took that to mean, 'sit here'. Smiling, she stepped over to the pile and sat down. She sighed, she sat up straight and looked up to see his nose back in the book he'd been reading when she first came in.

Growling to herself at his lack of attention, she asked, "Arishok, how does it fair?"

An answering grunt was all she got. She watched as he didn't even look up.

"_Rish ka ta?_" she asked. No answer. Gritting her teeth, she continued. "Heard of any good jokes lately?" Still no answer.

_Fine, let's see if you're listening at all, you big oaf,_ she thought as she turned her head, catching the eye of the elf. He was watching her intently.

"A priest walks into a bar. When asked why he is there, he replies, 'I'm here to serve the Maker.' All day and night he sits in the bar, and is asked the same question: 'Why are you here?' 'To serve the Maker.' Finally, this whore comes out of the back room. She sees the priest, she goes over to him, and instead of asking what everyone else has, she sits down in his lap. She leans in and starts making out with the priest. Everyone in the bar pauses to watch in astonishment. Breaking away from the priest's lips, the whore leans in to his ear and whispers, 'Maker says upstairs, now.' With that, the priest scoops up the whore and runs upstairs, saying, 'I live to serve the Maker!'"

Laughing so hard tears ran down her face, [Elizabeth] Hawke gave the elf a mischievous look before turning to check if the Arishok had been listening. The elf was shocked at first, but then giggles escaped from his mouth before he could stop them. Knowing what he had done, the elf covered his mouth, looking to the Arishok, scared. Hawke turned to the Arishok and saw he was still in his book. Sighing, she collapsed down, lying across the pillows.

Moments later a Qunari came into the tent; with a grunt and nod from the Arishok, the soldier unstrapped the elf and dragged him out. Silence ensued. Finally, after what seemed like hours, there was the sound of a chair moving and heavy feet coming closer to Hawke. Not moving her body, just her head and eyes, she looked up to see the Arishok standing over her.

Silent.

"Why was he chained up in here?" Hawke asked, in part to break the silence, but also out of curiosity.

"He was being punished."

"For what?"

"It does not concern you, Bas. I will know why you are here."

Taking a breath, she sat up and turned around to face him, crossing her legs. "I'll be leaving the city soon, and I wanted to see you before I left."

"Why?"

"Why am I leaving, or why did I want to see you?"

"Both."

Groaning, she threw her arms up and dropped them on the pillows around her. "I'm leaving because I have work outside the city and I'll be gone for some time. I'm not entirely sure how long yet. I might not come back at all. As for the other, well, I think the last two answers count for that as well." Watching him, he made no move, no sound; he just stood there and watched her. "I know you and your people haven't been welcomed and that there are radicals. I –"

She sighed, feeling ridiculous. Pouring her heart out to a statue. For all he was doing right now, that was what he was.

"Never mind," Hawke said as she got up.

"I have done nothing, yet radicals line up to hate us. It has been so since we came ashore here and it will be 'til we leave. The only change is which form they choose to hide behind. You, Bas, you have fought with and for us. You are Basalit-an, 'one worthy of respect'. But you are not one of us. I and all under my command here are of the Qun, and the Qun will protect its own. I do not wish you dead, Hawke."

With that clean dismissal, Hawke balled up her fists and walked out before she said anything more. While, yes, he had complimented her, he was also clear that she was expecting too much and was out of her place.

"Bloody Qunari bitch," she growled as she ran up the steps leading from the docks to Lowtown and her uncle's place. After tonight's payoff she had enough for the Deep Roads expedition. She would tell Bartrand first thing in the morning. Hopefully by week's end they would be deep underground. First thing, though, she needed rest.

The sun was high in the sky when Hawke finally awoke. _So much for first thing in the morning! _It must have been about lunchtime. Hawke climbed out of bed, getting cleaned up, dressing in her lighter armor for the day. She walked out of the room she shared with her sister and mother.

No one was in the house. She saw a note quickly scribbled on her desk:

_Elizabeth,_

_Mother and I went to the store – Uncle ate all the food in the house again, and drank all the wine last night. We will be back shortly._

Grateful she wouldn't get detained, Hawke left the house, heading to Hightown.

"Why'd you go promising something like that?" Bartrand grumbled to his brother Varric.

"Because, Brother, you've been pulling your hair out trying to figure out how to fund this thing, and if wait any longer, there won't be treasures to fight over," Varric sweetly stated.

"Well, human, you got the coin?"

"Yes, I do." Yanking the coin purse from her hip, Hawke threw it to the sour dwarf and smirked at his surprise.

"What did I tell you, Brother?"

"Fantastic. We just gotta find a good entrance into the Deep Roads."

"We have a bad one?" Hawke couldn't help but be sarcastic. She was in one of those moods.

"We have a Grey Warden's map with several entrances," Varric chimed in. Pulling said map out of her back pocket, Hawke handed it over to Bartrand. He looked at it intently for a moment, then looked back at them.

"We leave in two days. If you have any business left in the city, I suggest you handle it now. We'll be gone for some time. Let me know if you're taking anyone else." With that, he walked away with the map, grumbling to himself.

"I guess this is it."

"Yup. Guess you wanna say goodbye to –"

"Nope, I'm set to go."

Varric studied her for a moment. She had a sad look on her face. She then turned on her heels and walked away, leaving him by himself to contemplate.


	2. Chapter 2

**WARNING SMUTTY TIMES AHEAD! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!**

**A Huge 'Thank you' to a awesome Beta. Who bust butt correcting my horrible mistakes. Hikari M666.**

**Before I forget, I don't own ANYTHING! Bio / EA games own it all...Sadly.. T_T **

**Also I will warn you near the end is a very touchy subject, If you have a weak stomach just skip to last paragraph. I will update as soon as I can. Writting as quick as possible, but I have a 9 month old, 15 year old, 11 year old, & 8 Year old...BUSY! **

_**Don't forget to send love! Reviews are LOVE! Constructive crit, is ok...no Hate though.. With that being said, enjoy!**_

The day they left for the Deep Roads was a bright, warm, sunny day. They all met in the Merchants' Guild courtyard in the early morning, well before most merchants were out to open their shops. Varric had walked Hawke home the day before, after their meeting with Bartrand, and he had told her to bring two others on the journey with them. Looking behind her as Bartrand talked about 'a good deflowering', she met the eyes of all her companions. She still wasn't talking to most of them, but she knew, regardless of the animosity between them now, they would all have each other's backs.

"Excuse me, Ser Dwarf, I need to speak to my children."

Hawke looked over at the voice. Her mother stood there, wringing her hands out, shifting her weight back and forth nervously.

"Mother, now now!" Bethany whispered angrily at her.

"I just have to know, are you planning on taking your sister with you?" their mother asked, ignoring Bethany altogether.

"I hadn't really decided yet," Hawke said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Please don't. You can take any of your other companions with you. Leave her. I don't have so many children that I can take the chance of losing more to this Blight! Bethany isn't like you; she needs to be protected."

"Mother, I'll be fine. You don't have to worry, I'll be with Elizabeth. It's a lot safer than staying here where there are Templars." Bethany and her mother both stared at her with pleading, puppy dog eyes.

"Well, you can't take everyone. You're going to have to choose," Bartrand grumbled.

In the end, she chose Varric, Fenris and Bethany.

"Please, don't do this," Mother pleaded.

"Enough, Mother, the decision is made," Hawke said sternly, and walked over to the dwarves to begin their long trek.

They had been down there for months. The first few weeks were quiet, with little to no Darkspawn. They ran into a High Dragon and then found a Lyrium idol, were betrayed by Bartrand, and found an ancient Thaig. They discovered the Rock Wraith and demons, treasure and ancient glyphs. Finally, a week from the surface, Bethany asked to stop for a 'breather'. Wanting to get out of there as soon as possible, Hawke turned to tell her that they were going to keep pressing on, when she saw Bethany collapsing on the stone floor. Discolored veins were popping out of her skin and her eyes glazed over. Hawke had seen this a few times before and it was not good.

"Bethany!" she screamed. Tears formed in her eyes as she slid across the floor to her sister. Cradling her in her arms, she gently stroked her hair.

"I'm not going to make it. It's coming on fast," Bethany stammered out, fear plain in her voice. She cried, "It's just like Ser Wesley. I don't want to die!"

Tears were falling quickly down Hawke's face now. "Ssh, I will carry you out of here if I must. I will not leave you." Her voice quivered.

"You'll take care of it, won't you, Sister?"

"I'll make it quick, Sister. I love you." Elizabeth's voice was no more than a pained whisper.

"I love you too, Sister."

Hawke drew her dagger quickly across Bethany's throat. There was a momentary glimpse of pain, then peace took over her face as she died in Hawke's arms.

Hawke rested another night there. Her companions scrounged up all the wood they could find, she went through their bags looking for worthless pieces made of wood, and they made a small but adequate pyre for Bethany. They wouldn't leave her body here to be decimated by those _things._

When they resurfaced into the open air, Fenris wished her farewell.

"I will keep my ear out for Bartrand. That son of a bitch will go to ground for a while. He will try to sell that idol, and when he does, I'll be waiting. Bianca will be missing him something awful," Varric growled out as he left her as well.

Walking into her uncle's home, she saw her mother and uncle pacing. When they saw her they rushed up to her, looking around her, out the empty doorway.

"You returned, thank the Maker. Where is Bethany? Where is my sweet baby?" her mother asked, looking around wildly. Uncle Gamlen nodded, looking down, having guessed what had happened. A silent tear dripped down his face. Mother collapsed on the ground, sobbing loudly when she finally understood.

"I'm sorry, Mother, but Bethy didn't make it," Hawke said around the lump in her throat. Quietly shutting the door, she turned back to look at her mother, who was now staring heated daggers at her. Hawke walked into the back room with her head down in shame.

"Arishok, the Basalit-an has returned to the city," Ashaad reported to his commander. At the Arishok's nod, the Qunari fisted his hand over his chest and bowed before he turned around and left, leaving the Arishok to ponder his next move.

Years passed as tensions with the Qunari and Mages escalated. Knight Commander Meredith was cracking down harder on the Mages and Templars. The Qunari had still not left the city, and radicals were creeping out of every corner. Hawke was constantly being called upon by the Viscount and, in turn, the Arishok. She was starting to feel more like a ball being kicked around by the both of them.

The relationship between her and the Arishok had begun to grow shortly after she came back to the city. She practically lived at the compound, seeing as her uncle couldn't stand to look at her. Her own mother had not only blamed her for the loss of Bethany, but had even taken to attacking her verbally in public and private, and physically at home. Hawke couldn't bear to tell people her own mother had given her a black eye and broken her nose. Granted, Hawke had not been expecting it when she sat down to breakfast one morning and asked her mother to 'please pass the butter', before getting backhanded right in the nose, which instantly broke. Hawke's eyes had watered as her mother jumped on her and swung wildly, scratching and smacking and punching, pulling her hair, when her uncle finally decided enough was enough.

"How dare you speak to me, you bloody, filthy whore! I wish I had listened to my mother and killed you before I had you! I never would have run off with that stupid apostate! My babies would be alive now if it wasn't for you!"

Hurt and angry at her words, Hawke stood up, blood dripping from her nose onto her plump lips. Tears gathered in her eyes. "If you had terminated me, Father would _never _have married you, and your precious 'babies' never would have been born!" she gritted out.

Ellinor screamed. _She is losing her mind_, Hawke thought, watching her mother struggle against Uncle, trying to break free and come at her again.

"You are dead to me! I hate you! I curse the day that I had you! Get out, _get out!"_ She was screaming like a banshee.

Hawke looked at her uncle. He had anger in his eyes, but also disappointment, as he stared back at her. Hawke turned on her heels, grabbing her daggers, bows and arrows. She stomped out of the house, slamming the door behind her. There were several people in the street watching her and the house. She could still clearly hear Ellinor screaming and now throwing things.

_So everyone heard that. Fabulous._

Not wanting to risk the gossip rings, stares, or the humiliating looks of pity from her companions, she took her short cut to the docks. She needed a fight right now, and the Arishok was just the beast for the job.

_WHAM! _Pain shot through her skull. Her body crashed to the floor at the base of the post she'd been getting familiar with for the past three hours. When she'd arrived at the compound, the Arishok wouldn't even look at her. He ordered her to be taken to the 'training yard' and put through her paces. She had more scrapes and bruises than undamaged skin now. She had beaten the first two Qunari easily, but after that they just became harder and harder to beat. However, beat them she did, even when it was obvious she was taking more damage than they were.

This last opponent was a Karasaad, one of the soldiers that protected the Arishok, so easily the best of the best, apart from the Arishok himself, of course. He had been tossing her around like a rag doll, his quick bursts of speed throwing her off. The last hit, which threw her into the post (_again_), had caused her head to split open, and she was losing a good amount of blood. Blasted head wounds always bled heavily. It was in her eyes and running down one half of her face. She staggered up, her swords in her hands, on shaky limbs. Her breathing was labored as the Karasaad slowly (deceptively so) circled her, looking to finish her. As he found what he was looking for, he took several quick steps toward her with his sword raised, blunt end to her, but he froze mid-attack as a deep growl came from behind her.

The Karasaad lowered his weapon, nodding his head, and left, as did all the spectators that had been there watching all day. Slowly, Hawke turned around to find the Arishok standing a few feet behind her. Grunting at her, he turned on his heels and walked away, not looking back.

She figured she might have been expected to follow him. She quickly jogged-slash-limped to catch up. He entered his tent and she followed in. There were still chains dangling from the post, but no elf this time. The Arishok kicked a pillow close to the post and went behind his desk. Grabbing a small box from somewhere in one of the drawers, he came over to her, kneeling before her as she sat cross-legged on the pillows. He opened the box, pulling out several wraps and tiny, glass vials.

_A first-aid kit_, was all she thought before he poured a nasty-smelling liquid on some of her cuts. It burned like fire across her skin. Biting her lip, she grunted with pain. He was not gentle or unduly rough, but just didn't concern himself with worrying if he caused her pain. She was a fighter; part of being one was that you had to deal with it.

'_If you can't take the consciousness, don't take a swing!' _was what her father used to always say. The reminder of him put a small smile on Hawke's lips.

The Arishok saw this as he reached up to wipe the blood from her head, and tilted his own head in confusion. This Basalit-an confounded him. He could admit that he would never understand this city nor its people, but she was different. She had never been the same as them. Even when she did something selfish or wasteful, he was never able to see her like them. She was not one of his people, but she was worthy of respect. As she proved today, she was an honorable warrior as well. She was no longer Bas, but Basalit-an!

Staring into her eyes as she stared back was intense. He'd had plans for her the moment he met her almost four years ago. He had wanted to convert her; she would be a great addition to his people for her loyalty alone. As of late, though, he had begun to have _other_ plans for her, ones he had been dreaming of for several weeks now.

He normally didn't dream, and only did when his 'rut' was coming on. He had hoped it would wait; they had no female Qunari with them, as females were not warriors, so he had no need … but this Basalit-an! She was a contradiction to the rule, strong, smart and brave. She would bear strong offspring, stronger still if she was mated with a stronger male to temper her 'wild nature', as she claimed it was. Though it was not encouraged for a Qunari to mate with a non-Qunari, it wasn't unheard of. They worried that the human or elf – or rarer still, dwarf – would not survive the mating process or birthing. Qunari were not called 'giants' for nothing.

The few instances of crossbreeding were supervised for protection, but _none_ had ever been allowed when the Qunari was in rut. It was too dangerous: the Qunari reverted back to his animal side, rutting and dominating, biting, clawing. It was brutal but potent. There was also the 'lock', which meant that once inserted, the two would not be able to separate until his body got signals from hers that his seed had taken. The lock could last from a few hours to several days. That was another thing: the rut lasted several weeks, sometimes months on end. Rut was only for the Alpha males and only happened once every few years. The strongest warriors were made when he was in rut. Two of the Arishok's Karasaad were from his first rut; they were young but promising.

If he did not find the Tome soon, he would start his rutting here, with no female. It would turn into a bloodbath quickly. His concern was not for the city, but his men. When his beast took over, it did not distinguish between Qun and Bas.

All the time that he was thinking this in his head, Hawke was watching him. He did not realize what she was doing until she had already done it. He was brought back quickly when she reached up on her knees, leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

The Arishok jerked back slightly in surprise and worry. He worried the beast would take over, and if that was the case, she would not survive. He looked down at her sternly, showing her he did not approve. She apparently didn't understand, because she jumped on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and attacking his lips with licks and nibbles. Growling, he shoved her off, but she was like a sea monster with multiple arms grabbing at him. Finally he had enough, shoving her back to the post, grabbing her hands and locking them into the bracers. He stood up as she squirmed and pulled at them.

"So you like playing games, Arishok? So do I," she purred at him.

"Hawke, you know not what you are doing, what you ask," he growled.

"Sure I do. I'm asking for the little Arishok to come out and play." She pouted.

Growling like a true beast, he bent down to be at eye level with her as he grunted in fury.

"If this is what you truly want, Hawke, then I will oblige. However, know that it was you who asked for this. I will not grant you my 'little Arishok', as you so foolishly call him. You would not survive _our _joining. I will grant you a joining, though – several – as you wish." He straightened up and walked around her, leaving the tent.

Confused and turned on from all the battles and her closeness to the Arishok, Hawke was painfully aroused. She heard the flap of the tent and looked up to see an Ashaad walking towards her, his eyes so dilated they were almost completely black. He was removing his pants … which he obviously wore commando. She gasped as she saw his very large erection jump free from his pants as he pulled them down.

Her brain quickly caught up with her. She had made it known that she wanted to have a Qunari, but the Arishok wouldn't do it for fear that she would not survive the 'joining', so he was placating her with another Qunari. Idiot!

Ashaad was naked and quickly stripping her of her clothes, as best as possible considering she was chained up, before she finished processing everything. She opened her mouth to tell him 'no', when all the air was knocked out of her as he twisted her around, lying her on her back with her legs spread wide open, his body shoved between them. He deeply inhaled her sex, smelling her arousal from earlier.

"Hey, sto–" was all she got out before he growled and dived right in, licking her clit. Wanting to or not, he was very talented with his tongue. She squirmed and panted, twisted and pleaded, but he wouldn't listen. She was peaking quickly, that fire burning brightly in her stomach. White light popped across her vision as she climaxed; she didn't scream, though she wanted to, biting down on her lip. That didn't last long, though – Ashaad thrust his tongue into her, flattening it out to widen it. He kept thrusting as if it was another organ of his body. She was still sensitive from her climax, and another was building quickly. She was gasping for air, calling for the Maker, damning the Arishok. Then she came again. She wasn't even fully finished cumming when Ashaad flipped her over on her hands and knees, slamming into her. She screamed so loudly she was sure her mother heard her from Hightown.

He was not unduly rough; she'd had rougher experiences before. She was not expecting him to fit all the way in – he was quite long – but he did and it felt amazing. She felt it deeper than any man had been before, just twinging on the border of pain. Ashaad set a quick, hard pace, one she was liking immensely. After a few minutes she started shoving back to meet his thrust, earning her a surprised and pleased grunt. As she clamped down her walls around his shaft, Ashaad didn't last much longer, and with a grunt he spilled into her. She breathed relief and slight disappointment as he exited.

While she was still bent in position, her bottom in the air, a Sten walked in.

Looking over her shoulder at him, she saw he was removing his clothes as well. Furrowing her brow, she started to get up and ask what was going on, when he reached out and forced her head back down on the ground. He entered her more roughly than Ashaad. He tightly gripped the back of her neck and started to pound into her. It wasn't as pleasurable as Ashaad, who had coaxed her body into accepting what was happening. This Sten didn't care; he was here to take. His hands were rough enough that when he gripped her he cut her open with his claws. He ripped the rest of her clothes off, totally destroying them.

He wasn't as long as Ashaad, but he was wider. Tears pricked at her eyes as she realized what was happening. She had stupidly thought she was safe here, that they accepted her. She thought they were different from the Viscount and the rest of this cursed city. But she was wrong. They were using her and her body, just as the city and Viscount used her for their own political agendas.

_Stupid fool, you should have known by now that you shouldn't trust anyone but yourself!_

She was disgusted with herself, her body betraying her as well, climaxing twice with the Sten before he released inside her as well. He grunted then climbed off her. Thank the Maker for small blessings. She sat up, feeling their seed slowly flowing out of her, smelling them on her. She couldn't clean herself up with her hands still tied. Sighing, she missed the sound of the flap opening again. She didn't hear the two sets of footsteps.

By the time she heard anything, both Karasaad were pulling her up into a standing position. Both were already naked and erect. The larger one of the two turned her towards him, and he reached down as if to grab her ass. Only, he picked her up by it and spread her legs to wrap them around him. He slid right into her, pumping slowly. He was as wide, if not a little more, than the Sten, and just as long as Ashaad. If it were not for all of her and the previous two's juices, he would have hurt. As it was he slipped in perfectly. He still gripped her ass cheeks, spreading her open.

Breath on her nether regions had Hawke squealing, and she thrashed around, trying to pull away even more. She was quickly pressed into the body of the Karasaad that was pumping in and out of her, as he moved his hands to her back and head. The smaller Karasaad pulled her open and started to lick her asshole, slowly entering his tongue through her puckered area. Sensations overloaded her, and another climax. Helplessly losing count of how many now, she relaxed. Her body felt like it was floating on air. Her head fell back to rest on the smaller Karasaad's shoulder. _When did he stand up? _she thought.

Air escaped her lungs as the small Karasaad entered her back entrance. Both of them moved in and out of her. She was seeing white as she climaxed again. Grunts and groans continued as they milked her, finally letting their seed go deep inside her. She couldn't move. They dropped her on the floor, still chained to the post, liquids seeping out of her.

Hawke curled up in a ball on the floor, tucking her knees between her arms. Gasping sobs racked her body, the pain, fear and humiliation all slamming into her. She felt so used. She wasn't sure how long she lay there crying until the Arishok finally came in, carrying a large bowl of warm water and clothes. He kneeled down, dipping a cloth in the water to clean her up. When he reached over to her, she shifted away. He sat down on the ground, bending to look at her face.

"Hawke."

"Just go away." Her voice sounded so broken.

He leaned forward, grabbing her face. She tried to pull away but he wouldn't let her.

"Are you happy now? You win. You have succeeded in using me, like everyone else has." She spat at him. He wiped it away with a growl, gripping her face harder.

"And was it not you who started this? Did you not imagine yourself interested in me to quell the rage and emotions inside you? If anyone is to blame, it is yourself, Hawke," he growled.

Hate and anger boiled in her eyes. "So being raped is my fault?" she yelled.

"No."

He stood up, throwing the cloth in the washbowl, causing it to splash back at her face. He turned and walked out.

Several hours later, the smaller Karasaad from before came in, unchained her and left her to clean and change. She walked out of the compound as quickly as possible. Finding her weapons polished and waiting for her at the gate, she looked back for a second, then vowed to _never _come back again!


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the long wait, this is a LONG chapter, as is the next one. My poor Beta reader, I abuse so much T_T but your awesome! I hope you all enjoy, I LOVE the story Fav's & follows. Don't forget to review, it helps keep the juices flowing. Some DRAMA is coming soon, and a ****SMUT****WARNING***** later in this chapter.**

****Yummy** ;P**

**as always I do NOT own any D.A or their charectors. I just love playing in their playground, (I bought Inquisition! so excited can't wait to play.)**

"Why are you here, Ashaad? I thought we agreed, I would no longer darken your compound gate and you would stop requesting my help for every political spat there is!" Hawke fumed. She was beyond angry that the Arishok would send his Ashaad to come collect her, as if she were a piece of meat from a meat stand. She had been in a meeting with the Captain of the Guard when the Qunari brethren came in, surrounding her and Aveline.

"The Arishok requests your presence, Serah Hawke," one large, silver giant with short, blunt horns grunted out, looking displeased to be here gathering a Bas.

Hawke looked from him and his brethren to Aveline, then back to the Ashaad who had addressed her.

"I'm in the middle of something right now. You can tell your Arishok that I will think on his request and reply duly." She turned her attention back to Aveline.

"Duty requires that I bring you to him. I cannot return until I have fulfilled my duty," Ashaad stated as if explaining to a child.

"Hawke, we can finish another time," Aveline said. She kept looking around at the five Qunari dwarfing her office. "I think it would be best to answer them."

"No, we will not deal with this later!" Hawke yelled as she stood and faced the Qunari. She stode towards them, jabbing a finger into the closest one's stone-like chest to make her point. "I have done anything and everything you have asked of me, dealing with a dwarf, a crazed elf, radicals, missing Qunari, Saarebas, Tal-Vashoth – being bounced back and forth between _him _and the Viscount! I most definitely will _not _be ordered around like I'm his personal slave! If the Arishok wants me, he can come and get me!"

She walked out of the Guard Captain's office and out of the keep, heading to her own mansion. Considering it was at the foot of the stairs of the keep, she didn't have to go far.

Slamming the door, she stalked past Bodahn and Sandal. Orana met her at the top of the stairs, wringing her hands in fright. She heard the bedroom door get slammed by her mistress as well, and with speed she took after her. Knocking lightly, waiting for her mistress to bid entrance, Orana heard things being thrown around the room and glass shattering.

_Oh dear, _she thought, thinking of the mess she'd have to clean up later.

Bodahn surprised Orana by appearing next to her; she never heard him come up the stairs. He bowed his head to her and knocked loudly on the mistress's door. A second later it flung open to reveal a wild, enraged Hawke.

"_What?_" she yelled.

Orana ran and hid behind the nearest pillar. She remembered that when her old masters used to yell like that, someone was going to get punished. Mistress had never punished her before, but she knew Mistress was strong and she didn't want to be on the end of _that _whip … or worse.

"Your mother asks for your presence right away, Serah," Bodahn bravely responded. The only sign that he was frightened was the constant shifting of his feet.

"Not now –" Hawke said, just as her mother's voice carried up the stairs.

"Now, Elizabeth!" came the clear command.

It seemed she was a hot commodity today. She rolled her eyes then slowly descended the stairs. Leandra was sitting with her back straight, head held high. Hawke sat across from her. This was the first time since the death of her sister that her mother willingly saw her.

"It has come to my attention that a grave error has been made," Leandra started. Hope, however fleeting, sprung in Hawke; maybe her mother realized it wasn't her fault, that Bethany's death, though tragic, was an accident.

It didn't last long. Her hope died out with her mother's next words.

"You are getting along in years now. It is time you stopped traipsing about and picking fights. Playtime is over; you are nearing on twenty-two now, almost a spinster. It is time you settle down and marry."

"What?" Elizabeth squeaked.

"Come now, do not act so surprised. I had already had the twins by your age." Pain momentarily crossed Leandra's face. Hawke looked at her mother. She wasn't as young-looking as she should have been, and she was not that old. Years of hard labor and stress, constant worry and loss, had aged her quickly beyond her years.

"I'm sorry," Hawke whispered.

Leandra looked up for the first time at her eldest – her _only _child, she corrected herself. "Seneschal Bran is single. He is a powerful man and would make a fine husband. Viscount Dumar is hosting an evening of entertainment tomorrow night. Ser Bran will be your escort. As for tonight, he will be joining us for our evening meal. You will dress appropriately and act as an Amell lady should. Am I understood, Elizabeth?"

Hanging her head as a small child would, she uttered, "Yes, Ma'am."

"Good. Now go upstairs and bathe. Let Orana prepare you. I bought you a dress; I'll have it sent up."

Nodding her head, Hawke stood up and went to her room. She leaned against the door, quietly crying as Orana worked on preparing the bathwater. Her mother was all she had left anymore. She would do anything to have her look at her again and not cringe in pain or lash out in hate. If that meant, say, not correcting her mother when she claimed Hawke was the age Bethany would now be if she had lived, then so be it. What was two years younger, really?

And if she wanted her to flirt and play noble with Bran, she would.

"Mistress, it's ready," Orana called.

Wiping her eyes, she went to prepare.

Steam rose to the high ceiling. Elizabeth was submerged in the water, but her head rested on the lip of the tub. Over and over she replayed in her mind the last time she was at the compound. She had felt used, dirty, degraded. She didn't understand how people she had respected and thought respected her, with their strict rules and order, could do that. How could the Arishok, one of the leaders of his people, allow and even orchestrate rape? She had been ashamed at first – she had taken pleasure out of what they did to her, after all – but she refused to play victim anymore.

There was a soft creaking sound behind her, the door leading to her room.

_Must be Orana, _Hawke thought. "I'm not done. I'll come out when I'm ready, just put my towel over there." She pointed to a stool not too far from the tub. There was no scurrying or apologizing as Orana usually did. Frowning, Hawke turned her head to look behind her. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes took in the Qunari standing in her bathroom, only a hand's reach away.

"It is irrelevant if you are ready or not. You will come, Basra; willingly, or by force."

"By force it is, then," Hawke answered. She jumped up, throwing water at the Qunari. She knew it wouldn't hurt him, just distract him, as she ran out of the bathroom butt naked to grab her duel swords. She made it through the door only to be roughly grabbed on the arm from her right by another Qunari. Reflexively she pivoted on the balls of her feet, swinging her knee up and hitting home on her attacker. He fell to his knees, one hand on his jewels, the other still holding her arm, but loosely. She pulled back her left hand, socking him in the nose and breaking it. He released her then, but she didn't stop; his fellow was almost on top of them. She placed one more kick on his head, effectively knocking him out.

Unfortunately, she had lost time. The first Qunari grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around hers so she couldn't move. He lifted her up so she couldn't use her legs, but sadly for him, he lifted her _too _far up: she swung her head back, cracking his nose. She heard him grunt in pain and smiled. His hold didn't falter, though. He squeezed her tighter, and it became harder to breathe. She felt like her ribs were about to break.

Doing the only thing left for her, she curled up her legs and kicked back, hitting him in the jewels as well. Then she threw her head back again to head-butt, only to momentarily be stunned by pain shooting through her head. He had expected another head-butt; he had moved the bases of his horns in the way so she hit solid, hardened bone. He did drop to his knees from her kick, however, and now with her feet on the ground she moved her right leg behind his. With all her might, she moved it from under him. He fell back on the floor with her on top.

"Bloody stubborn heathens!" she yelled, rolling her eyes.

Whether from all the noise or just her yell, she wasn't sure, but her mother barged into her room holding her father's (and Bethany's) staff, pointed at the Qunari, just as he rolled over on top of Hawke, squishing her between him and her cold, stone floor. He froze for a moment. Elizabeth looked up to see the sight, and then fear set in. Her mother was no Mage; the staff wouldn't work, but the Qunari didn't know that and would attack and kill her!

"Bas-Saarebas," he growled.

"Get off my daughter and leave this house at once!" Hawke's mother demanded in her nobility-voice.

The giant got off Hawke but began stalking towards her mother. Hawke moved without thinking: she jumped up from her position on the floor, jumped onto the Qunari's back, grabbed his head and twisted with all her strength. There was an answering cracking sound as the giant fell to the floor, lifeless eyes gazing hatred out at her mother still.

Breathing heavily, Elizabeth looked up at her mother; she looked pale but stood tall.

"Finish dressing for dinner. Ser Bran should be here any minute." With that, Leandra turned on her heels and left.

Uncomfortable with her reaction, Hawke walked over to the mirror. Even though she had broken the Qunari's noses, there was little to no blood shed. Sighing, she turned to do as her mother bid.

Dinner was mind-numbingly boring. Hawke was used to loud, obnoxious noises, rowdy gangs, dirty jokes, whores plying their trade in corners right there in front of everybody … tonight was none of that. She barely said five sentences; Mother carried the conversation, Bran picking it up here and there. Whenever Hawke said something she was getting scolded for being 'vulgar', or being told that 'a wife should not speak without her husband's permission'.

That one got an immediate response of, "I'm no man's wife yet, Serah."

He and Mother acted as if it was a done deal, which truly frightened her. It wasn't that Bran was horrible or anything – he was just dull and proper. He cared what people thought. He collected things that others coveted to rub it in their faces, and she couldn't help but feel that she was one of them. He wasn't bad-looking: she liked older men, him being ten or so years her senior, and his face was pleasing to look at, minus his sneer as he looked down on people.

She knew of his 'other side', where he would patron whore houses and trudge with the lows in Lowtown. She knew he preferred men, but he would never let it be known, probably for fear of losing his station as Seneschal, or fear of what the other nobility would say or think. He knew she knew and didn't care. Thus, she believed she knew why he asked for a moment alone with her after dinner.

When they were alone, Hawke expected Bran to ream her out, belittle or even threaten her to keep her mouth shut about his private life. To her utter shock, he kissed her on the cheek and then kneeled down on one knee with a ring box, asking for her hand.

"I think you'd do quite nicely," he said. At least he didn't give false platitudes or declarations of love.

No matter how much she wanted a relationship with her mother again, Hawke couldn't force the response she knew Mother wanted. It was almost painful, the lump in her throat blocking speech. Luckily (or unluckily), Leandra mustn't have trusted her daughter not to mess this up, because she was standing on the other side of the door. When no response to Bran's question came, she rolled her eyes and came in, answering for her worthless child.

"Of course, Ser Bran, she will accept! Why, she is positively speechless with joy!" she gushed, smiling brightly at the redheaded man. He nodded, looking back up at Hawke, who was forcing a smile on her face, too, but it didn't reach her eyes. He slipped the ring on her finger and stood. Taking the hand he still held, he brought it to his lips and kissed it softly. Releasing her, he then bid her mother goodnight and left.

She was sure there was more that happened, but she couldn't remember …

Next thing she knew, she was running through the streets to the docks. She slammed through the compound gates as if the Archdemon was on her tail. She ran up the steps to the throne on which the Arishok normally sat. He wasn't here … she _needed_ him to be here. She looked around and spotted a door cracked open. She walked to it and saw the Arishok inside, seated at a large, octagonal table, drinking something sweet and spicy-smelling.

She went up to him, grabbed his drink, and downed it in one gulp.

Slamming the cup down, she tried to order him to duel her, but a coughing fit took over her. The fire in her throat caught her off guard. "What the bloody hell is that, Gaatlok?" she managed to get out between coughs.

The Arishok didn't look happy with her. He poured more liquor into the cup she had taken, but as he put the bottle away she grabbed the cup again and chugged it. He made a growling sound at her.

She finally handed him the cup back, sitting down heavily in the seat next to him. "I killed one of your soldiers. I didn't pause to ask which one he was." She shrugged her shoulders. Her hands were on the table and she was playing with the ring Bran had given her.

"If anyone else were to say that, they would not breathe another breath, but you, Hawke, are different."

Silence ensued until she couldn't deal with it anymore. "Aren't you going to ask me why I killed him?"

"No."

"No?"

Sensing her question truly lay elsewhere, but that she would not get to it until much later, he sped up the process. "He was sent to bring you to me. Though he fell by your hands, he still succeeded, as you are here."

"But he is not _why _I am here."

"Then why are you here?" he asked with annoyance in his tone.

Silence reigned again, until finally she turned to him with tears in her eyes. "Make me forget why I came, please," she begged.

The Arishok was shocked and confused by this request. She had not come here since that night, a night he regretted profoundly. She did not think as they did; she did not understand what he had done for her. He had hoped to teach her a lesson: when an _Imekari_, a child, had a hard time learning or understanding a lesson, they used situations or objects to help them understand. Hawke had blamed him, had played 'victim', a thing she was not. He had tried to show her how brave, strong and desirable she was, and also that she should not try to use others to elevate her fears or hurt. She had not understood the lesson, which was his failing. He had never failed before, and now she was still using others, a weakness that would get her killed.

He had tried verbal lessons, then an 'eye for an eye' lesson; he guessed all that was left was to see if giving her what she wanted would teach her … even if it worked more than she thought.

He grabbed his drink and downed it, then grabbed Hawke by the hair. He stood up and she followed suit, and her walked her out to his private rooms. Deep in the compound, he was not worried that she would see and notice most of what was going on, or how big it really was down here. It was dark to human eyes and she was busy squirming.

"Parshaara! Quit your squirming, woman," the Arishok growled as he threw her into the room, shutting the door behind him. She turned on him, swinging her arms and knees, trying to hit him, but he grabbed her arms and wrestled them behind her with one hand in his iron grip. With the other hand, he grabbed her face and shoved it up to his, crashing his lips on her. She continued fighting for a moment, then she pushed into the kiss more. Attacking his lips as he had hers, with just as much ferocity, she moaned and grinded herself against his hard, bare chest.

The Arishok grabbed the dress Hawke still wore from dinner and ripped it open, exposing her to him. He hooked his claws into the strings on her corset and pulled, popping them open. He yanked the dress and corset the rest of the way off her body. Then, though, he stared at her lower half, looking truly confused.

She had this black string around her sex; he had never seen anything like it before, but he strangely liked it.

Noticing his look, Hawke giggled – something that had never happened in his tents before. "It's called a thong. It's an undergarment." At his unbelieving look, she continued to explain. "Women wear them so as to not have lines showing up in their dresses … or to tease their lovers."

She winked at him.

He growled as he ripped the 'thong' from her, too. She was now blessedly bare before him. He sniffed and inhaled her scent. Her natural smell and her arousal were driving him wild. His beast was clawing to break free, but he clamped down on it. She might have fared very well with the other Qunari couplings she'd done, but he was very large; he could easily damage if not kill her were he to lose control. She started to unbuckle his pants, which he allowed for a time. She got his overskirt off, his boots – but when she came to pull on the leather pants he only allowed her to untie them. He remained in them, and picked her up and tossed her on the bed, where he climbed to hover over her.

Kissing was pleasurable and aroused her more. He grabbed and lightly twisted her nipples. Leaving the kiss, he licked down her neck to her breasts, giving them his full attention. She was arching her back, offering more of them to him. Her purrs and moans continued to get louder as he suddenly applied more pressure.

Hawke liked it rougher; she wanted to forget. Although gentle and sweet was great sometimes, right now was not one of those times. She craved being savaged, ravished. She pulled at his horns, growling when he didn't get the hint … oh, he got a little rougher, but that was it. Hawke felt like he thought she was a porcelain doll. She would have none of this.

"Harder," she commanded.

He increased it slightly, but not enough.

"Harder, damn it!" she growled again.

The Arishok looked up at her. "Hawke, I could damage you if I am too rough. I will not allow that."

She was momentarily shocked that he would worry about her safety. It was admirable, but unnecessary. She started to push him away, and he allowed it, until she said, "Fine, I'll go find _another _who can satisfy me."

That did it. The Arishok growled and threw her back, and he growled again before he took to biting and nipping at her. She almost peaked just from that. He licked a trail down her body, shoving her legs open to him, and pinned her hips down as he licked her clit. She climaxed almost immediately, and her screams for more pushed him on. He inched lower, shoving his long, thick tongue into her entrance, and he used a knuckle and claw to flick her clit instead. She twitched and bounced under him. He didn't relent. She clawed and screamed, pulled on his horns, but he didn't stop. Moving his tongue back on her clit again, he shoved two clawed fingers into her – and she broke. She bucked, cried and screamed for him, begged him to fuck her.

He was painfully hard, his pants restraining him as he moved up and down her body; his cock was getting the friction from both the pants and the bed rubbing him. He was dripping. He made her climax one more time before he leaned back, trying to pull the beast down before he truly lost control.

Hawke's eyes were almost black with lust. She begged and pleaded for more, for him, for his cock. He closed his eyes to fight for control, repeating Qun verses in his head, but it was all undone when she caressed him through his pants. He breathed deeply, purring. She took his momentary lapse and pulled his member free, and quick as a flash she brought him into her mouth. She only got a few licks before she was shoved away and flipped around onto her hands and knees. The Arishok came up behind her, leaning over her to whisper in her ear.

"You plead for forgetfulness. I shall oblige, Elizabeth," he growled as he slammed his full length into her from behind, his balls smacking her ass cheeks. Elizabeth cried out in pain and bliss. Finally, what she wanted, and it was more than she had hoped for.

Pounding into her, he lifted himself up to angle deeper, gripping her hips and slamming her back to meet his thrusts. The slapping sound of their joining could be heard from the hallway, her screams almost from out of the compound – but none would know what they did, and his men would not question him. He rammed her unmercifully, her ass red from his balls smacking her, her juices leaking on his bed. She had climaxed two more times since he'd been inside her, and he felt another coming on as his balls moved up; he was close as well. He angled deeper, hitting her spot, quickening his pace. He exploded as she, too, careened over the edge. His cock swelled and locked them in place as he continued to ejaculate in her.

She tried to collapse, only to feel a pulling, sharp pain down there. She gasped and looked back.

"What the –" she started to say before he interrupted her.

"I'm in rut, Hawke. That is why you were summoned, and why it is unimportant that you killed one of my Karasaad. I am an Alpha; I go into rut every few years. This was not planned or expected, but it is to be. You will stay with me for the next few days as the Qun demands. This requires a female, and you are that. There are no Qunari females with us, so you will do; you are Basalit-an, after all."

"Okay, I'm still lost. Why are you stuck inside m–"

The Arishok cut her off again, not wanting to hear her tirade of pointless questions. "When I am in rut, I swell to fit you so no seed escapes. It is to increase the chance of my seed taking root. Of the other plethora of questions I'm sure you have, it can wait."

"'Taking root'?" Her brain was working slowly to begin with, since that fireball drink earlier, and now with the tingling sensations in her nether regions it was extremely hard to think through things.

"Oh my Maker! Are you trying to get me _pregnant?_ That's what you said, is it not?" Hawke was freaked out. She'd only just gotten engaged to the Seneschal! She had heard of nobles getting 'with child' from their lovers and passing it off as the spouse's, but she doubted that would work if it were a giant, grey-skinned, horned child.

"You should feel honored. Few ever get this privilege, even in Par Vollen, and I honor you, Hawke," the Arishok said as he thrust into her again. She felt that he was hard again, bigger too, and they were still locked together. She knew she should feel used, angry, and infuriated, even, but all she felt was a desire for more, more of the Arishok. All ideas and thoughts of protesting and parties, obligations and whatnot were the furthest things from her mind right now. She bucked and leaned her head down against the furs as her ass went higher into the air. It was a sign of submission, one the Arishok saw and reveled in: he had made the mighty, proud Hawke, Basalit-an, submit without demanding it or asking it. The beast roared to life, taking over.

They stayed in his chambers for three days, eating little and sleeping only when exhaustion demanded it. He took her in every way possible, some she had never even heard of before. When it was finally over, she couldn't walk or talk. Her voice had left her after the first day of screaming. They lay together, the Arishok gathering her in his arms and spooning her from behind, and they slept another day.

By the time she awoke, the Arishok was gone. Next to her on the bed was a set of simple human clothing. She put it on; the garments were slightly too large for her but she'd make do. She walked out the door to be greeted by an Ashaad waiting for her; he nodded respectfully to her then walked her out of the compound. He offered her food before she left but she declined, not feeling right being here anymore.

She just wanted to bathe and sleep for another day or two. It took her an embarrassingly long time to climb the stairs from the docks to Lowtown, then from Lowtown to Hightown. By the time she finally reached Hightown she was all but weeping with desire to get home. She entered her house only to hear Uncle Gamlen yelling at Bodahn and Sandal about where her mother was.

"Leandra! Le-an-dra!"

"Enchantment?"

"Mistress left early this morning," Bodahn explained.

"Well, wherever she is, she never came to our meeting. It's so unlike her."

Bodahn considered. "With her suitor, perhaps?" he offered to Gamlen.

"_Suitor? _Leandra never mentioned a suitor before!"

"Well, these flowers came for her." He pointed to a beautiful vase of large, white lilies.

Hawke walked in, spotted the vase, and fear gripped her insides right away.

"I know something about that," she finally pushed out. Her voice was scratchy-sounding and it hurt to talk louder than a whisper, but she needed the others to hear her. Having just now noticed her, Bodahn scampered up to her, confused by her appearance. The clothes she wore were not hers, but a commoner's clothing and too large. She was missing the coat she had left with; no doubt that was what he had been coming to collect from her upon her entrance.

"And where in the bloody hell have you been, girl? You had your mother worried sick for days! She even requested the Viscount and your gang search for you!" Gamlen yelled.

"Out," was all the answer she gave him.

Seeming less pleased than usual, he nodded his head in the direction of the vase. "So you say you know something of this."

"A killer has been sending his victims white lilies just before he abducts them." Her voice was cold and lacking all feeling.

"No, not Leandra – you're wrong. I'll – I'll head back to the house. Maybe we just missed each other. Yeah, that's it."

"Denial will do us no good, Uncle. I'll go look for her. And I think I know where he may be."

She forced herself upstairs to change into her armor and retrieve her daggers. _Great, more blasted stairs, _she thought, though now they were easier to climb with adrenaline pumping through her veins.

The shock and disgust at seeing her beautiful mother butchered like that had bile rising up Hawke's already sore and burning throat. Quentin was a madman, a Blood Mage dabbling in the dark, forbidden arts to replace his late wife. Her mother's last words were how happy she was to leave her and finally be with the twins and Father again. Hawke was all alone. She burned the hideout, not wanting another bloodthirsty Mage to use Quentin's sick and twisted research. She left her companions without a 'see you later', or a wave, not even a second glance. She wanted to get home.

Later, as she was staring at the fire in her library, she didn't hear Gamlen come in and walk up behind her until he spoke up.

"Well, did you find her? Where is she?"

Hawke looked at him for a moment, then down at the fire, not wanting to see the disappointment and hatred on his face when she told him. "She's gone. He killed her."

"Wha- no, not Leandra, Maker! Why?" Tears fell down his face. She could hear the real pain of loss in his voice.

"Does it matter?"

"N-no. It will always be senseless. I hope you killed him, the bastard who did this."

"I did."

"Good."

An awkward silence filled the air. This would have been when he would say, 'I must inform the rest of the family', but there was none left. They were alone.

"Sleep, child. You look exhausted. I'll … make the arrangements." Gamlen turned and left.

Elizabeth went upstairs and slept for three days, only waking up on the fourth day for the funeral when Aveline sent a small patrol of guards to retrieve her. She got dressed in a black dress her mother had bought her after she had returned from the Deep Roads without Bethy. It was getting too much use.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the wait, busy busy bee's! Hope you guys enjoy, don't forget to **READ & REVIEW** It encourages me to keep writing. **

**rant time bought the New game 'Inquisition" 2 weeks before the release. It almost crashed my laptop, my graph card isn't big enough for it. Have to fix hubby computer or buy a gamer laptop..idk...sooo lucky I love this game. ugh!end rant**

**Hope you enjoy the read, I don't own Dragon Age 2, I just play in their field of flowers.**

**REVIEW**

****(Credit goes to the BEST Beta reader in the World! "Hikari M666")****

"Hawke, I need your help," Guard Captain Aveline said as Hawke walked into her office.

"Oh, I'm doing fine, Aveline. No, really, you don't need to worry about me. I'll bounce back like I always do. My, but you're sweet to worry so – oh, before I forget, thank you for the beautiful flowers you sent. Mother would have loved them. I appreciate you giving me time to mourn and dealing with your job as you should."

"Alright, Hawke, cut the bullshit. You're hurting. I know, I miss her too, but that doesn't mean life stops just so you can hide yourself away in that tomb of a house. Life goes on. Cry, yell, get smashed drunk if you must, but move on!"

Elizabeth glared daggers at her best friend. Even Aveline wasn't immune to the fire of intimidation in her eyes. "You … you cold-hearted bitch. If I had said that to you after Wesley died – by your hand, might I remind you – you would have kick-" She never got to finish that comment as Aveline slugged her in the jaw then pounced on her, punching, kicking, clawing, pulling hair. Several guards, including Aveline's own husband Donnic, came in to pull them apart.

"Arrest her!" Aveline commanded the guards holding Hawke. None moved to follow that order. She directed it again so there was no mistaking it. "I order you to arrest Elizabeth Hawke, by order of your Guard Captain!"

Finally the guards around Hawke moved, but not as Aveline wanted: they moved away from her. Hawke drew her blades, twirling them while she looked around the room.

"Remember who I am, and what I am capable of." She arched one of her brows then turned to glare at the Guard Captain.

"Argh, I gave a direct ord-"

Aveline was interrupted by Donnic putting a calming hand on top of hers, and whispering so only she heard. "Enough, love. Let it go."

Taking a calming breath, Aveline turned her back on Elizabeth. "Leave, Hawke."

"With pleasure," came Elizabeth's curt reply. She spun on her heels and walked out.

Leaving the keep and not wanting to return home to the memories, she walked around for a bit, but at almost every turn she ran into reminders of either her mother or her sister. There was only one place neither of them had ever gone. Sighing in resignation, she headed to the docks, where she'd claimed so many times before to never go again, yet where she always seemed to find herself.

"Hawke," came the grunting sound from behind her. She quickly turned to be met by none other than the Arishok. She had just entered the gates, where there had not been a guard. That was unusual.

"Arishok," came her reply as she looked around; the compound looked empty.

"Where is everyone?" she asked.

The Arishok nodded his head. He started walking toward his tent to which she had been countless times. She followed, and upon entering she sat on the pillows while he grabbed something from his desk and came to join her. As he sat close to her, she smelled his intoxicating scent, musk and spice, like cinnamon. He shifted closer still and handed her the book he had grabbed. She took it, reading the cover, not understanding what this had to do with her question.

"What is this?" she asked.

"A book, Hawke," he answered.

"Nah, I can see that. I meant what does this have to do with my question?"

Grunting, he leaned forward so his face was right before hers. "The others are not important. You are here now. _That_ is important. We are together. Read."

Rolling her eyes, she opened the book in her hands and started to read. Shock coursed through her as she realized it was poetry. The beautiful lines, the soft emotion, the touching rhythm … before she knew it she was silently crying. She was reading of pain and losses. When she became unable to push another word out of her mouth, she felt a large, hot hand on her head, gently soothing her and pulling her into the Arishok's arms.

He laid her down on top of the pillows, kissing and caressing her. She didn't have it in her to push him away. She needed comfort and understanding; she needed a warm body to hold and have hold her in return, and for all his shortcomings the Arishok at least understood and granted her this. She returned his kisses and caresses, and sighs and moans soon followed. There was no rush, as each was simply enjoying the other's body. Before she knew it, they were both naked and he was slowly entering her.

This was so different from the last time: then it had been hot, demanding, dominating, hard and rough. It had been about conquest. This was nothing like that, and it was slow, deep, gentle and meaningful. If she didn't know better she'd swear he was 'making love to her', and she in return to him.

She was crying again but for another reason. The beauty and emotions of this act were overwhelming. She had never in her entire life felt this way before. She looked up into his deep, violet eyes and read that he was experiencing the same as she. Smiling, she poured all she had into this, letting her body take over to show him how much she had come to care for him. She knew she had fought it, denied it – the truth, even when she was angry at what he had done to her, she had known as truth.

She was in love with him.

As the pace changed slightly to allow him deeper to where he brushed her womb, the painful pleasure building in her was also building in him. They tumbled over together in ecstasy. As she came down she voiced her feelings. "I love you."

It was but a whisper. She drifted off to sleep shortly after, not hearing his response when the darkness took over.

Several weeks passed in a similar fashion. Hawke would wake up, dress in her fancy armor, grab a piece of fruit to eat, meet with her companions and do tasks for others all day. Come evening she went home, ate dinner as she responded to correspondence, bathed and dressed in her old armor and cloak. Then she would sneak down to the docks to spend hours of the night making passionate love to the Arishok, and also talking, on occasion. He was adamant that she continue to read the poetry and to awaken early to do it all over again.

On one eve, she retired to her estate to find Isabela and Avaline bickering in her living room. She stopped them just as it was about to get physical.

"What in the bloody Maker is going on here?" she demanded in her Champion voice.

"Hawke, remember when you came to my office and I said I needed to talk to you? It can't wait anymore. Fugitives have run off –"

"I'm going to _die!"_ Isabela yelled over Aveline.

"_What?_" Both of the other women turned to look at her in equal parts shock and disbelief.

"There, that got your attention," she grumbled.

"So help me, whore, if this is another one of your –" Aveline began, before Hawke interrupted.

"Explain, Isabela, and don't leave anything out!"

"Okay, you remember the relic? It's surfaced again. A man named Wall-eyed Sam has had it, and he is making a deal to sell it, tonight! I have to get it. I need Castillon off my back and this is how I'll get that."

"Why now?"

"I don't know. My sources say he looks rough and in need of coin."

"Why not just by it from him?" Aveline suggested. "Surely after all these years with Hawke you have collected a small fortune by now." She raised her brows.

Isabela turned red and shifted uncomfortably. "Right, well, whoring around has its cost. Unfortunately I don't have that kind of coin."

"I can give you a loan, Is," Hawke offered.

Shocked, Isabela swung her head up, looking at Hawke to see if she was only joking, or offering out of pity, even, but she was floored by the sincere devotion in her gaze. Smirking, Isabela sauntered over to Hawke, swaying her hips, and she purred, "Oh, you're too sweet, kitten. What do you want from Issy in return, sweet thing?"

"You'll pay me back with work."

It was like an ice bucket taking Isabela from hot and bothered to cold and empty. "Of course," was her reply. "Meet me down at the foundry in Lowtown tonight. That's where it's going down."

With that, she left. Hawke turned to Aveline, who spoke.

"I need your help. Two Elven fugitives have escaped and _supposedly_ converted to the Qun. I need you with me when I talk to the Arishok. He seems to listen to you. I need you."

"What if their conversion is true?"

"Be that as it may, they still need to face justice. The Qun is not an alternative to punishment. Tonight, Hawke. I'll be waiting."

Aveline turned and walked out. Hawke needed a long bath and a large vial of Health Poultice.

That dirty, two-timing snake!

That was the cleanest name Hawke could come up with for Isabela right now. After facing her demons when she got to the foundry – the _same one _her mother was taken and killed in – and fighting Abominations, demons, Blood Mages, Qunari! Why the hell they were there was beyond her. After all that, Isabela had left her, Fenris and Varric to deal with it all as she skipped out on them!

After the fight, which was too close for comfort (Maker, she needed to remember to grab Anders or Merrill next time), she had run out after Isabela only to find Wall-eyed Sam's body and a note.

"Once a thief, always a thief," Fenris growled.

"Bitch!" Hawke exclaimed, pacing. She was connecting the dots and didn't like where they were going. _"Fuck!" _she yelled some time later. There was no escaping it. It was the only thing that made sense.

"I think we get it, Hawke. Rivaini was a double-crosser," Varric said, trying to calm Hawke down.

"Varric, you are right in so many ways, but that isn't why I'm mad. Think about it," she said.

She turned to look at both Varric and Fenris. They had confused looks on their faces. She'd have laughed if it weren't for the situation she was now in.

"One year after I got here, the Qunari were shipwrecked in a storm. They were chasing a thief that stole their Tome of Koslun. That same storm shipwrecked Isabela – she lost an 'important relic', which she later lets slip just happens to be a book! Do you see where I'm going? Why would Qunari even be here if the relic is being sold to Tevinter Mages? They were after their Tome, a Tome that Tevinters could have very easily used to win the war they've been fighting with the giants for centuries!"

"Oh, nug humpers," Varric grumbled, rubbing his face as the enormity of the situation settled on them.

Fenris paled for a moment then his face turned determined. "There is only one thing to do now. You must go to the Arishok and tell him. Hopefully you carry enough favor with him that he won't kill you on sight."

Rolling her eyes like a kid being told to eat their vegetables, Hawke turned and started walking to the compound, grumbling to herself when the others couldn't hear. "Hopefully you're right."

"That is irrelevant. I will speak to Hawke about the Tome." The Arishok's knowing, predator gaze burned through Hawke where she stood, sweat forming on her brow and back. She returned his gaze a moment later.

"It was stolen –" she started, before he interrupted her.

"By one of yours," he grunted out, the displeasure clear in his voice.

"Yes, at one time she was, but she betrayed me in the end."

"What loyalty you command," he mocked. Her eyes became slits in a fierce glare that had most retreating or pissing themselves, but he seemed to bask in it.

"The same can be said of you and your Tal-Vashoth!" she quipped, causing him to growl at her. But if he was going to throw stones, then so would she.

"An issue for another time! Arishok, you must hand over the fugitives," Aveline protested. "This is not how it is done. They cannot run to you to escape justice."

The Arishok nodded to one of his Karataam**. **A few minutes later, two scrawny elves walked out and stood between the Arishok and Hawke's party.

"Speak, Viddathari. Who did you murder and why?"

"A city guard forced himself on our sister, and when we went to report it to the city guard, they turned us away. So we paid a visit to him. It got out of hand and, well, we killed him." It was the taller elf that answered, and there was no pride or gloating in his voice, nor was he playing the cowering coward.

"That doesn't justify taking justice into your own hands," Aveline protested.

"Is what they say true, Aveline? Have there been reports of such?"

"There w-" She paused for a moment then continued, "I will look into it."

Hawke frowned at her friend. Guards using their authority to take advantage of its citizens was one thing, but their Captain not knowing about it or turning the other way was unacceptable!

"Hawke, what would you do in my place?" the Arishok asked. She didn't need to think on that for long.

"I wouldn't hand them over."

"A wise choice," he replied as he turned and walked up the stairs to his throne. As he nodded his head, the Viddathariwere escorted back below the compound where the guards couldn't touch them.

"Hawke! You're not helping!"

"Is it true, Aveline? Have there been reports? I can't imagine you not knowing what is happening in your ranks."

"I do know my soldiers! There is nothing I don't know in my own barracks!" Aveline yelled back.

"So you knew, then, and turned a blind eye to this?" Hawke asked in disbelief as her arm pointed to where the elves had stood before. There was no reply. Hawke visibly showed her disgust and contempt for the Guard Captain. Right as she was about to rip her a new one, a spear sang past Hawke's face, grazing her left cheek. She stared for a moment at the spear, now embedded in the stone in front of her. Feeling something wet on her cheek, she reached up, wiping what she thought might have been a tear but in truth was blood.

She looked up at the Arishok then, to see his hard, stony expression. There were **Karasaad **standing by him at the ready. He grunted and they threw spears at her. She pivoted on the balls of her feet, just barely missing them.

She pulled her daggers out and pared another spear heading at her. Aveline grabbed her arm and pulled her back as she made a move forward towards the Arishok.

"Not here, it's too open!" Aveline yelled over the buzzing and clinking of spears and swords paring or soaring through the air. They ran out of the compound, losing every guard that came with them. They took off to a hideout between the docks and Darktown. When they got there they were shocked to be met by Anders, Fenris, Varric, Merrill and Sebastian.

"Oh, thank the Maker, I thought they'd gotten to you." Anders sighed in relief. Seeing the cut on her cheek, almost without thinking he reached up to cup her face and heal it. Slightly shocked, she nodded her head in thanks.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Varric asked.

"You hear that? They are taking over the city," Aveline stated as she looked up at the screaming and the pounding of heavily-armored feet above their hiding spot.

"What do they think they're doing?" Anders asked.

"It's a takeover, and as swiftly as it's going, I'd say it's been planned for a long time." Hawke sighed.

"Where are they going?" Fenris asked.

"The keep," Hawke, Aveline and Varric said together.

"I have to get up there. My men –" Aveline started to say as Hawke cut her off.

"Yes, well-trained and armored men need you to come hold their hands, not the untrained, unprotected, unarmored citizens you swore to protect!"

"Hawke, I am Guard Capt-"

"I don't give a bloody fig what you are! You _will _go with us to protect the citizens. You will command any and all guards we run across to protect the people. When we get to the keep, and we will get there, you will be by my side fighting, as you have been from the moment we met. Is that clear, Captain?" Hawke walked up to put her face against Aveline's. The others were shocked silent as the tense air pulsed around them all.

Finally, Aveline exhaled and nodded, slightly smirking. "It's good to have you back, Hawke, even if you are a pain in the ass."

Hawke smiled a full hundred-watt smile in return and replied, "Good to be back, Av." With that, they all headed up to save their city.

They had battled their way all the way to Hightown, met Knight-Commander Meredith (what a pleasant flower she was), and led the reinforcements to the keep. Hawke snuck in with her gang and battled all the way to the throne room, only to be met by a head rolling against her boot. Looking down, she saw it was that of the Viscount.

"But we have a guest. Hawke." The Arishok walked down the steps to greet her. "Tell me, Hawke, what would you have me do? You know I cannot leave. The Qun must be satisfied."

"Arishok, _arishkata, otim, Qun veil._"

Just then, the doors slammed open and Isabela sauntered in, stepping over Qunari bodies.

"Sorry I'm so late. The city is a bloody mess to get through," she said as she came to stand next to Hawke and Fenris, holding a large, faded, light brown, leather book.

"Did you have a hard time finding us?" Merrill asked innocently.

Laughing, Isabela answered, "No, kitten. Just follow the trail of bodies and you'll always find Hawke." She grinned at Hawke, only to have her smile drop slightly. The vein in Hawke's forehead, the twitching of her jaw, and the flared nostrils were a dead giveaway that she was mad. Isabela didn't want to look at her eyes; the icy waves coming from her were enough. Clearing her throat, Isabela lifted the book to the lesser scaries in the room right now. The Qunari soldiers gently removed it from her hands, turning and presenting it to the Arishok.

He grabbed it and caressed it in a worshipping manner.

"The Tome has been reclaimed. We are free of this pustule of a city to return home." He turned, handing off the Tome to one of his Karasaad. He turned back to address Hawke, with an unfamiliar look in his eyes, and said in his baritone voice, "We will leave, taking the Tome – _and _the thief – with us."

"Wait, _what? _No! I'm not going with you!" Isabela stated firmly. She slid behind Hawke for protection. "Hawke, do or say something. Don't let them take me. I know I was wrong for taking the relic and running, but I was scared! I got halfway to Antiva before I knew I had to turn around and come back. I blame you for this, Hawke. This is your damn influence."

"Oh, no. If anyone is going to kick her ass, it's me!" voiced Aveline.

"Rivaini…" was all Varric could say. For a dwarf of many words, he was surprisingly short of them at the moment.

"_Tallis Basra, ralshokra Arishok a Basalit-an kost kata_," Fenris spoke, stepping forward as he gestured to Hawke.

"Surely you're not suggesting I duel a woman, elf," the Arishok growled.

"She is Basalit-an, as you claim. She is worthy of respect, therefore worthy to duel," Fenris replied.

Grunting in response, the Arishok came back down the last few steps until he was toe to toe with Hawke and asked her, "What say you, Hawke? Hand '_It' _over, or duel."

"What are the rules?"

A dissatisfied look came over his face. "To the death. I win, we claim '_it' _and this city. You win, we leave and you keep '_it'._"

Nodding her head, Hawk thought it over. She knew he'd had his men try to kill her – he was offering to do so himself – but she couldn't help that she still loved him. She couldn't imagine sinking her blades into him to kill him. It was wrong and she knew it, knew how messed up this all was, but she also didn't want to lose him, either. They had fought through cultural and physical issues, finally opened up to each other, only now to lose one another.

It wasn't fair. She wanted to curse the Maker but she knew it wasn't His doing. _Life isn't fair_, her father had said many times. She just never grasped it until she had lost everyone she ever cared about. She had finally found peace in the Arishok's arms only to lose them as well… but by golly, his death would _not_ come from her hands. Not this time.

Looking deep into his eyes, she hoped she was showing her love for him clearly. She prayed he knew that if it were not him she'd never do this for anyone else. It _was _him, though, and he _was _asking. She saw his eyes light up a little as she nodded her head again.

"She is all yours," Hawke whispered loud enough for just Fenris and the Arishok to hear, but that was it.

He grunted to his soldiers, who swarmed around Isabela, grabbing her arms and locking them behind her back. She kicked and screamed, cursing Hawke, but Hawke didn't hear; she was caught in the eyes of the Arishok still. His men filed out of the keep and city as he closed off his expression.

"_Panahedan_, Elizabeth Hawke," he growled as he left her.

She was lost. She thought he might take her or offer for her to go with him. She ran to him just as he was leaving the throne room, grabbing his hand. He turned his head to her.

"That's it?" she whispered. "That's all you're taking? No, 'come, women,' or, 'convert Hawke'? _Nothing?_"

He snatched his hand from her as if it burned him. He narrowed his eyes and growled at her, "No."

"No?"

"No."

"But what about us, everything we shared? You're just going to leave like that? Do I not mean _anything _to you?" Hawke heard her voice quiver. She knew tears were building up in her eyes.

"You are not meant for the Qun. You were but a means to an end."

She stepped back, the force of his words knocking the air from her. She couldn't breathe. The Arishok had been playing with her this whole time, using her. Words of protest and denial were on her lips when he parted with a few more words.

"Go to your mate, Hawke. I have no need of a Bas." He flicked his eyes to the ring she still had on her hand. She stared at it for a moment, and when she looked up he was walking out the keep doors. She felt a stabbing, searing pain in her chest and she tried to run to him, to plead, beg if she must. Anders, Fenris and Aveline grabbed her, restraining her so she didn't make more of a fool of herself.

Varric came around and grabbed her face, trying to talk sense into her, but she heard nothing but a rushing water sound in her ears. The pain in her chest was so intense she thought she'd die.

Nothing was working to calm her. The four of them were getting more bruises and scratches from her than from all the battles they'd fought that night.

"Do something, Mage," Fenris growled at Anders. He was quickly losing patience with Hawke and her struggling. Taking another elbow to the temple from her, he lit up his lyrium markings as a warning, one that she was too far gone to heed.

"What would you have me do, smite her?" Anders asked through angry grunts.

"I don't know nor care right now, just do something, Blondie!" Varric chimed in.

"Okay, hold her still," Anders said as he released her and backed up. Concentrating on peaceful dreams, he spoke a few words of incantation and sent a small, blue orb at Hawke. Once it hit her, she immediately slackened in the others' arms. Sighing in relief, Fenris bent down and picked her up, cradling her in his arms as if she were a small child.

None saw or heard Knight-Commander Meredith come up, nor her announcement of Hawke's new title, 'Champion', until the crowd roared with approval. They feared it would awaken Hawke again, so Fenris quickly rushed down the stairs to take her home, as the others made apologies for her abrupt departure.

Anders was exhausted after all the celebrating; he had forgotten to go check on their new 'Champion'.


	5. Chapter 5

** HAPPY HOLIDAY'S! YAY I love this time of year, with cheer and joy, yummy foods! Most hate this time of year only cause they gain so much weight, I am blessed to 'LOSE' weight this time of year! ahhhh! I love it, did I mention I love it? lol. Ok, so thank you for the fav's & follows, & the review from :KawaiPanda. **

**Hope everyone enjoyed their thanksgiving, I did, my family crammed into my sisters house, watched movies, ate, caught up, chased kids around. Christmas Eve is our next get together and it will be at my humble abode, lol. I still have to finish painting since moving in, whoops. "Slacker' I know!**

**Well on with the story, so I've had this chapter done for a while, (I'm not gonna lie) but I totally forgot it was already edited and waiting to be posted. Don't kill me please, (huddled in the corner, covering face) My Bate reader and I are working diligently to crank these chapters out, I also will not post (or try not to) a chapter under 2,000 words. **

**Just saying my beta reader is AMAZING! I use and abuse soo much, I lied saying oh, no worries the next chapter will be shorter,it was longer! infact the next to chapters I sent were longer than this. But no complaint's *'Hikari M666'* just takes it in strides and keeps working day & night to give you guys (a hell of alot cleaner) better chapters. **

**On with the story now that I had you distracted ;p DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own D.A 2 or Orgins...In fact I own nothing, I don't even own my car... -.- this is depressing. Enjoy while I go cry myself to sleep. *NAP TIME***

The discomfort she could deal with, the nausea she could stomach, the smells that made her nauseous she could fight through. But the dizziness and adrenaline drain, especially in combat, had her finally giving in and walking through Darktown late in the afternoon, when most hadn't seen her since her 'crowning of championship' of Kirkwall. She was always out doing some odd job for Knight-Commander Meredith or First Enchanter Orsino, or with her ragtag band of misfits (minus one steamy pirate wench), or holed up in her Hightown mansion alone.

She entered the steam pot that passed as a refugee hospice of sorts, and scanned the crowd to find whom she was looking for, while trying her best not to throw up on the floor in front of everyone else. Sure, the contents on the floor weren't much better, but the last thing she wanted was the people gawking and running around telling others how they saw first-hand the Champion of Kirkwall hurl in front of them.

There, she spotted Anders walking out of his 'supply closet'. With a few large steps, she was before him.

"Hawke!" Anders exclaimed in surprise at the sight of his fearless leader. "What are you doing here? Haven't come here to help, I hope, after your last debacle. Poor Mr. Weasel." He pretended to sniff. "I only hope he's gone on to a better place."

Hitting him lightly, Hawke rolled her eyes. "Do shut up, Anders. It was one time and he was a weasel, literally! I truly doubt he is spending eternity plotting my revenge."

"That's what you think." Anders laughed. It was a nice sound, one that had been missing lately. What with Mage and Templar issues coming to a head, the power struggle, and the absence of the Qunari from the city, it had been pretty heated lately, so a lighter side now was … nice.

Smiling to herself at old times down memory lane, skipping over the still potent heartache that accompanied any thought of the foreign giants, Hawke realized she had zoned out again. Anders was looking confusedly at her while asking a question.

"So, what are you doing here, Hawke?"

"Can't a friend come visit a friend?" Hawke asked, pretending to be hurt.

"Sure, if that friend were just about anybody but you. You never do anything without a purpose or reason, so, what's up?" he asked, no anger or judgment in his voice.

Taking a breath, Hawke got down to why she came. "I need your magical expertise, please."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh Maker, don't tell me. Now that Isabela's gone you've taken up her mantle and have been whoring around Lowtown again," he said, exasperated. He was getting tired of healing those nasty diseases.

Red colored Hawke's face quickly as her eyes popped out of her head in outrage. Anders realized his mistake too late. Hawke would never do such a thing. In fact, as far as he had heard, she had only been with one man in her whole life – well, not man, but beast.

The recently-departed Arishok had left Kirkwall in tatters, taking his soldiers and his Tome, plus a very reluctant Isabela, and left Kirkwall and Hawke behind. Anders didn't blame her for handing over Isa; he knew she was only trying to save the city and its people. He also knew that it broke her heart not only to 'betray' her friend, as she saw it, but also that the Arishok made it very clear that Hawke was but 'a means to an end'. She was not Qunari, nor prisoner. He had no use for her. It had taken Fenris, Varric and Aveline to physically hold her back as he left, and they still struggled to do so. Ultimately Anders had no choice but to put her under a sleep spell to stop her from chasing the warlord to the docks and begging him to take her, too.

Luckily, she hadn't resorted to that just yet, but Anders knew her well enough to know that it was coming. As far as the citizens knew, though, she was cursing the Arishok and his brethren while they left; it looked as if she'd wanted a fight but was sore she didn't get one. Only her close confidants knew the truth. She was broken.

"Hawke, I'm sorry, I didn't mean –" Anders started to apologize in a hushed tone, only to be roughly hit in the shoulder and cut off as Hawke started to walk past him. He reached out, grabbing her hand, sending a calming spell into her; she just jerked her hand from his grasp.

"Don't!" she snarled through clenched teeth as she rounded on him.

Taken aback by her venom, he temporarily stopped noticing the quick sensation that coursed through him as he sent that small amount of magic through her. Something wasn't right; this wasn't like her to be this out of control. He was even further shocked when she turned and started throwing empty beds and sweeping his logs and manifesto off his desk. She was _completely _out of control. He hadn't seen her like this since they first met, or perhaps shortly after she lost her sister Bethany in the Deep Roads.

Looking around at the chaos she was making in his hospital, he saw the fear in his patients' eyes, most (the ones able to move) cowering at the door, ready to bolt. He needed to take control. Watching for where she was headed next, he put a paralysis rune on the floor to hold her until she calmed down.

Her rage was so great she didn't notice Anders putting the rune down right before she stepped down, activating it. She was caged like the wild animal she felt like inside.

Knowing it wouldn't hold forever, Anders started ushering his patients out, the ones who could walk, quickly sending healing waves over the rest to get them out and to safety. He suspected that once the spell wore off, Hawke wasn't going to have calmed down yet. He knew she was probably going to attack him for using magic on her. But he would cross that bridge when it came.

Draining every last ounce of his mana (not a smart thing), he was left weak and tired. Finally, having gotten everyone out, he stumbled over to his destroyed desk, sitting down heavily in his seat a few feet from Hawke. Taking out a potent Lyrium flask, he depleted it quickly, not thinking about the taste or the quick shiver of pain as the strong poison entered his bloodstream. Already he could feel the slight hum of his mana returning. Looking up at Hawke, he started where he'd left off.

"Hawke, I know you're hurting. I feel your pain and rage, but this is not the way."

"Ha, that's rich coming from you, Abomination! Tell me, is this Anders talking, or _Justice_?"

He glared at her. That was an insult he would expect from Fenris, not her. "Careful, Hawke. I have enough mana back to be a true pain in the ass."

"Oh, forgive me, oh mighty Anders. Would you like me to bow down and kiss your boots? Or how about bend over and let you have your perverted way with me!"

At the startled gasp and wide-eyed expression on his face, she pushed home the dagger she drew on her words. "Oh yes, I've known you've been sweet on me for years, Anders. It must have really bothered you to watch me so openly prefer the touch of a giant 'beast' to your soft, simpering Mage flesh. Tell me, do you pleasure yourself while thinking of me?"

"Enough!" he roared, standing up and knocking over the chair he had been sitting in. His eyes glowed an ethereal blue. "I don't know what's gotten into you, Hawke, but this is not the Hawke I know."

"What's gotten into me? Why, a giant, grey, rock-hard dick –"

"_Stop!"_ Anders snapped his fingers, sealing her lips shut. He was glaring daggers as he approached her. "You are not right, Lizzy, and I _will_ know what has gotten into you. If you will not tell me by mouth, you will tell me by body."

He moved his hand out towards her body, with a blue-green light emanating from his fingertips. He started from her head to see if she was being mind-controlled … no. Gliding his hands down her body, he could feel her anger burning through her veins. He went down her body until he stopped at her stomach in shock and confusion.

"Hawke, please … please tell me you have been with someone other than the Arishok." He pleaded with his eyes and voice, trying to deny what his magic and senses were telling him. But Hawke's eyes answered clearly what he feared. "_Hawke._" His voice sounded pained and pitying.

The glyph on the floor finally gave, and Hawke was free to move, but she found she had lost all desire to do so. Fearing what Anders had felt, she had to know beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"What is it, Anders?" She gulped audibly.

Anders looked truly in pain as he stepped up to Hawke, drawing her into his arms as he hugged her. "You are …" He wasn't sure he could tell her. Feeling her stiff in his arms, he knew she needed to hear it for certain, so he took in a steadying breath and quickly told her, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

"You're pregnant."

There was a long pause.

"Far …" Hawke mumbled, slowly starting to pace. In her mind she was running through the numbers. She had never told anyone about the other Qunari getting to 'introduce' or 'test' her endurance for Qunari mating, as the Arishok explained it. The months didn't add up, right? She should have been showing by now if it was from them …

"What? Hawke, what are you talking about?"

"How far!" Hawke turned to yell at Anders. He was shocked, and stepped back. She had never yelled at him or treated him like this before and he didn't like it.

"Uh, I don't know. When was your last cycle?" His voice was softer and wavered slightly.

"I don't remember," came her shocked whisper. She was frozen in place. So much had been happening lately, she couldn't even remember the last time she bled!

Seeing her fright, Anders cautiously walked over to her. "This will only take a minute, and I'll have your answer." Breathing in to calm himself, he stretched out his hands to her abdomen, letting his blue light flicker over her. He sensed the spark of new life. It was still young, but forming perfectly. A flutter flickered across the bond as if to say hello. He couldn't help but smile as he released his blue orbs from Hawke's body.

"I'd say you're around six to seven weeks. It's a good thing you didn't have to fight the Arishok. You could have lost the baby. Especially in the early stages, a pregnancy is very fragile."

Hawke stared into the void. She didn't respond to what he was saying.

"Hawke, are you okay?"

She turned to him. "I don't know," she answered honestly. It was like her brain was in a fog.

"When are you going to tell the others?" He waited for her response, but didn't receive one. He started on a lecture. "Hawke, you have to tell them! You can't keep racing about the city and coast in your condition fighting like you have been! It's not healthy, for you or the baby!"

"I don't know," was her only reply again.

Anders walked up to her, grabbing her by the shoulders, gently shaking her. "Hawke, do you even want this baby?"

She looked him in the eye for the first time since hearing the news. The fog was gone and her eyes were clear. "Yes," she said, determined. "Just don't tell anyone yet." Seeing him amp up for another lecture, she pre-empted him. "Please, Anders, just not yet. I need time. I promise I will tell them, and soon."

Against his better judgment, he nodded to her request.

The next couple of weeks went mostly quietly, if you didn't count the numerous letters requesting _the Champion _at some noble's dinner or ball, or the Knight-Commander's or First Enchanter's summons, or even the King of Ferelden's. Jobs just started lining up. Hawke still hadn't told her companions yet, and Anders made his displeasure at that known. She tried not to bring him along on quests anymore, but it really wasn't wise to go without a healer, period.

With her audience with the King, she didn't think she'd need him. She didn't exactly think the King would attack her. Anders just somehow knew what she was doing and tagged along, always making innuendos about 'expecting', 'motherhood', even some stories of whores finding themselves 'in the family way'. She ignored him, threatened him, tried to reason with him … he just kept on going.

"If you refer to me as a dumb whore one more time, Anders, I swear they'll be finding pieces of you all over Thedas come the next Blight!" she whispered to him as their companions were coming up the rear. They were far enough behind that she was sure they couldn't hear.

"I wasn't trying to insinuate that you were a lady of the night, Hawke."

"Just dumb, then," Elizabeth grumbled as they reached the large double doors of the keep.

"You're the one who keeps putting yourself in situations that can seriously harm or even kill you."

"We're warriors. It's what we do!"

"_We_ are, yes, but not the baby!"

"What baby?" Fenris asked as the group caught up to them.

"Oh, is someone going to have a baby? I love babies. They're so soft and squishy and they smell, too. Not always nice, though," Merrill rambled.

"No one's having a baby, Daisy. Are they, Hawke?" Varric asked, steering the conversation to their fearless leader so that she could quash the topic that was making the dwarf very uncomfortable.

Anders gave Hawke a glare, trying to tell her that now was as good a time as any. Hawke opened her mouth to answer when the doors swung open and Knight-Commander Meredith stormed out, nearly knocking Anders over.

"Bloody dog-lord King … insufferable puppet …" Meredith grumbled on her way out, quickly followed by several Templars.

"What the –" Varric was cut off by Hawke nearly running into the keep, the party running to keep up.

"Your Majesty." Hawke bowed on one knee before King Alistair. The King blushed slightly and motioned for her to rise.

"Please, you bow too easily," Alistair said as his uncle, Teagan, came to stand next to him.

"You wanted to see me, your Majesty?"

"Please, stop with the 'Majesty's and all that. It's just Alistair to you, Lizzy." He winked.

"I'm sensing a story here," Varric called. Hawke rolled her eyes at the ever-nosy dwarf.

"Not what you think. Ali and I practically grew up together."

"Ugh, really, I could have gone my whole life without hearing that nickname again." Alistair groaned.

Hawke pouted. "Aw, poor Ali."

"I thought you grew up in Lothering?" Varric asked.

"I did, but Lothering is so small and not very far from Castle Redcliffe, once a month my father would take us all to Redcliffe to bargain and trade for things we didn't have. On one of those trips, I met a little piglet covered in mud and soot. I took him home, cleaned him up and snuck him food. My father found him sleeping in my bed. I begged to keep him but alas, it was not meant to be." As Hawke became more dramatic with her story, Alistair rolled his eyes and folded his arms.

"I was heartbroken. I had to return the little piglet back home. I saw him every time we went back until I was eight. When we went back, it was gone. I never stopped pining over my little piglet, until one day I heard another had claimed him. My heart shattered into a million little pieces."

"What does this have to do with the King?" Merrill asked.

"Oh, I'll tell you, my friend. I named my little piglet 'Ali', only to have some strumpet claim him. She kissed my fair piglet and turned him into a king. She married him!"

"And we live very happily, though I don't think Ashley would appreciate you calling her a strumpet." Alistair laughed.

"How is the Queen?" Hawke asked fondly.

"Quite grumpy these days." Alistair grinned like a cat who swallowed a canary.

"You would be, too, having to carry your large spawn," Teagan affectionately stated.

"She's pregnant! Oh, Ali, congrats, my friend!" Hawke's joy was a shock, but accepted. Alistair hugged her back, but upon seeing Teagan's face, he knew his time was short. He had come for a reason. He pulled back slightly, still holding onto her.

"Elizabeth, though I am joyed to see you and hear you have done so well, I fear I must ask a favor of you."

"As a king or friend?" she asked, her previous joy deflated.

"King, I'm afraid. There is trouble brewing, not just here, but in Ferelden as well. Tensions are high with Orlais, but I won't go into that here. I am needed elsewhere. Can I trust that you can safeguard the citizens here?"

"Half the city is Ferelden refugees!" Anders cut in.

"Yes, I am aware of that. This is no small task. I only ask because I know you are capable."

"What of Ferelden? Don't you need me there if there is to be a war?"

"Do you still consider Ferelden your home, being here so long, rising as you have here?" Alistair asked. Hawke didn't need to ponder that for a second.

"Ferelden will always be my home. Though I was serviced to King Cailan, you are a worthy king that I would gladly swear my allegiance to."

Hearing that, Alistair and Teagan smiled. "One day I may take you up on that offer, but not now. I need you here, please, Lizzy. Help turn the tide that is coming ashore." Alistair squeezed her shoulders one more time before he let her go.

"Your Majesty, her Highness awaits," Teagan stated.

"Yes, the ol' ball and chain awaits." Alistair smiled, turning to leave.

"I can't wait to tell her you said that," Teagan jousted.

Gasping, Alistair followed his favorite uncle out as they joked. "You wouldn't! Would you?"

"Hawke."

Turning around, Hawke saw Fenris, who had been quiet this whole time. "Yes?"

"It's … my sister. She is here, at the Hanged Man. Would you go with me? I'm not sure what to expect or say." He looked shy and truly uncomfortable to be admitting this. Hawke nodded.

"A round for everyone on me!" Varric said as they all turned to head out.

**Hope you enjoyed reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it. Personally, I adore Alistair, but I have a secret crush on Teagan, (Shhh don't tell no one, especially my husband..he'll never let me play again, then I'd never see Teagan again, than I'd spiral in to depression and be force to get a golden retriever and name it Teagan, ((don't know why just I see him as a sweet, kid friendly obedient yet will guard you to the death type, so retriever like.)) Then I'll have to carry on a imaginary affair with my dog (no sex or anything that's gross I'm not in to beastiality or anything, "mind out of gutter folks") so for my sanity and your by extention, Please don't tell hubby, I'll cry.. If you don't I promise one of these days I'll write a story about our secret love!**

**READ & REVIEW, I think I'm losing my mind...how do you know if your crazy?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you soooo much for the follows/favorite...and the reviews. I will respond to one reviewer who said it didn't make since, and that my Hawke is weak, and the story is hard to follow. Personally, being put in a situation like she is, please tell me if your going to be fire & brime stone? I'd personally love to imagine I'd be but I know human nature, we won't. It's the victim syndrom, where a person can fall in love with their torturer. Anyway, not wanting to give everything away, but I will promise this, 'I promise in the later chapters all will be revealed!' lol... ha ha ha!**

**Also, my beta is on vacation, so this might be the last update for a week or two. She needs a break I am such a slave driver! I will be working on more chapters a.s.a.p... expect time skips, the MEAT of the story is coming...hmmmm, I can taste it! yummy! Also SMUT WARNING.**

**As usual I don't own D.A 2 or Origins. Just play with their things...that sounds so wrong...ENJOY!**

**please don't forget to REVIEW!**

She felt something wasn't right the minute she walked into the bar. The place wasn't crawling with the usuals as it should have been, and there were a lot of faces she'd never seen before. She wished she had paid more attention to her gut feelings.

It had been a trap from the get-go. Fenris's sister did show up, as did Danarius. The battle was a tough one: Danarius, a Magister, and two of his apprentices, plus all the shades and demons they could conjure. Hawke danced around and through each group of fighters, helping with the massively uneven numbers, backstabbing, twirling, kicking. She felt she was on a roll until Danarius popped out of thin air right behind her. She turned just as he sent a fireball hurtling at her. It made contact with her chest, throwing her back several feet, knocking her into a wall by the fireplace. She crumpled to the floor, blackness taking over.

Anders, seeing this, yelled and ran over to her side. He cast a protective bubble around them as the rest of the party took up guarding her. He was already low on mana, but he put everything he had left into healing pulses to her womb and heart. It wasn't enough.

"Mana! I need a mana potion!" he yelled to his team.

Merrill tossed the last one on her belt, her largest one. Anders grabbed it and gulped it down quickly. Time was of the essence. Painful stabs shot through his body as his mana quickly increased. Bending over Hawke, he put everything he had into his healing pulse spell.

"Come on, Hawke. You can't die now. You have little Hawkelings to take care of, Mama Bird," he whispered under his breath.

Meanwhile, Fenris had caged Danarius in a corner and, as the Magister's shield spell wore off, he plunged his hand through his heart before Danarius had a chance to mutter a counter-spell or raise another shield. Fenris watched as the life left his former master's eyes, while Danarius sputtered and cursed him with his last breath.

"Leto, I had no choice," Fenris's sister claimed as she cowered in another corner, in fear of his retribution.

"I find that hard to believe," Fenris growled as he charged toward her. "You sold out your own brother!"

"Please, no! Stop him!" she cried.

"Why should we?" snapped Anders, pausing for breath before he continued to heal Hawke.

"Danarius was going to make me his apprentice. I would have been a Magister."

"You would have sold out your family for _that?"_ Anders was disgusted, and it showed in his voice.

"He left us. I have no brother."

"You are right about that," Fenris flared. He ghosted his hand through Varania's chest and crushed her heart, as she had done his. He straightened up, looked around the room, then headed to leave. As he reached the door, he paused as he heard a question directed at Anders.

"Did you say there are Hawkelings on the way?" Varric finally got out.

He wasn't the only one who had been floored by that statement that they were not supposed to hear, but obviously had anyway. What Varric said was the only thing that would have stopped Fenris in his tracks other than 'Hawke is dead' – and he still wasn't sure if she was or not yet. He turned around and saw that there was virtually no one in the bar except for them and Croft, the owner.

Anders sighed as he finally finished working on Hawke, her breathing finally even and strong. The baby was another story. He wasn't sure how much damage had been done. Time would tell. He looked up, informing everyone of Hawke's stability.

Images danced across Hawke's mind: passion, love, trust, respect, fear, pain, loss. Opening her eyes, her vision was clouded and blurry. Blinking a few times, she dislodged the tears that had gathered, yet to spill. She recognized her bedroom immediately. Turning her head she saw Anders sitting in a chair close to the side of the bed, staring off into space while holding her hand. Fenris was behind him, leaning against the wall and looking out the window. Rain was pouring down the sky, dark as night, and there were sounds of the city just outside.

As she made a move to sit up, hands reached out and supported her, putting pillows behind her back. Looking up, she saw Sebastian and Ser Bran on the other side of the bed. Sebastian had put the pillows there for her; Bran looked expressionless and tense. Anders and Fenris, having heard her movements, moved closer to the bed and Anders started examining her right away.

A throat was cleared. All eyes looked over to Bran, who had caused the noise. "If you'll excuse us a moment, I'd like a moment with the Champ- ugh, I mean, my fiancée."

Fenris and Anders glared at him – Fenris growling, even – but Sebastian was the calming voice of reason.

"I think it appropriate. Hawke, we will be right outside if you should need anything. Do not hesitate to call. Fenris, Anders, they have much to discuss."

Nodding reluctantly, Fenris followed Sebastian out of the room. Anders lagged behind. Turning at the door, he warned Hawke, "Don't get out of bed, and don't get worked up. You need rest. Your body needs to heal." He wanted to say more, but Fenris roughly grabbed him by the robes and pulled him out of the room, slamming the door, effectively leaving only Hawke and Bran in a tense, awkward silence.

"How do you feel?" Bran asked, not unkindly.

Looking up, Hawke blushed slightly. "Okay. Sore, but okay." She forced a small smile, which quickly left with his next question.

"And the baby?"

The silence stretched on as Hawke mentally freaked out. Her breathing increased and sweat formed on her brow. Guilt turned her stomach; she feared she'd be sick right there in front of him.

"How did you know?" she finally forced out with barely a whispered breath. He made no move to come closer, about which she wasn't sure she was happy or sad. She didn't love him, and she never had. She made no promises nor had any illusions about their relationship, but she had not taken discretion, and regardless of how she felt, she had agreed to be this man's wife. She felt shame and guilt for the wrong she had committed to him.

"Your Mage told me. Imagine my surprise when I came to visit you with Brother Sebastian to go over the final details of our wedding, and found not one but two men in my betrothed's rooms. I did not expect fidelity, but I did expect discretion." Bran fumed for a moment.

"Bran, I am so sorry. It was never my intent-"

He waved off her protest, not wanting to be placated by pretty words.

"No, my dear, you didn't care to think. I knew of your …" He paused here, thinking of an appropriate word to describe her taste in 'men'. "… _affairs_."

His tone made sure she understood that he knew of the others. Fear and shame showed in her eyes as bright as the sun, and he momentarily felt guilty for what he'd said. Shoving that aside, he reamed ahead. He knew she didn't love him, and he didn't love her. She was spoiled by the male population entirely too much, she was arrogant, stubborn, prideful and self-righteous; she was also beautiful, kind-hearted, and wholly a treasure that many wished for. He was lucky enough to have had the foresight to attempt to procure her, but now he knew she was slipping from his grasp. He could feel it. Without her mother here anymore to push or guilt her, he had no illusion of holding her so easily. It was fear that had made him go to the Chantry tonight and acquire a marriage licence, fear and desperation that made him grab Brother Sebastian – and luck when he was informed by her Mage friend of her 'family way'.

He would not have stayed if he didn't have to, but he didn't want to miss the last chance he saw to cement his claim to her. Bless his life in politics, learning how to read people and situations; if not for that, he'd never have seen the golden opportunity right before him.

Nodding his head, he continued, "Yes, I've known of your amours. I allowed it because of my affection for you. I know you do not love me, Elizabeth. I, however, care a great deal for you, and if allowing you to have your flings before we are wed makes you happy, then I will oblige. However, I had thought you to be wise enough to not allow some – _male _– to beget his by-blow upon you, and before you have given _me _an heir!" He ended in a yell. He was breathing heavily now, his eyes fierce upon her face.

_He has never yelled in all the years I've known him_, Hawke thought to herself. _He must be truly upset._

_Gee, you think? You only fucked a beast and let him impregnate you! And all the while, you were engaged to a man, a human man, one of your own! He feels cuckolded! With good reason. You don't deserve him._

She argued with herself in her mind as Bran advanced on her. He could see her doubting herself. He smiled inwardly; she was right where he wanted her.

"I'm sorry." She started to cry.

"As well you should be. I should call off this farce of an engagement, and I'd be in my rights to do so!" He glared at her. She cried harder, nodding her head in defeat, unable to even look him in the eyes.

"Yes, you do. I have nothing to offer by way of an apology. I have wronged you and I am truly and utterly sorry."

"Oh, but you do, my dear," he cooed to her. She looked up at him then. Bran had moved without her knowledge and was now sitting close to her on the bed. He reached out a gentle hand and caressed her cheek, wiping the tear streaks from her face. In a husky, deep voice, one she had never heard in her life come from him, he said, "Prove to me you are truly repentant."

"What would you have me do?" she asked as if an innocent.

His hand trailed from her cheek to her lips, and with his thumb he pulled on her bottom lip slightly. He leaned in and kissed her with as much passion as he could muster. She was frozen for a moment, but then he pushed his tongue in her mouth and swept and sucked on hers. She moaned into his kiss, reaching up to touch his shoulder lightly. He leaned in more and grabbed at her tender breast. She gasped at the feeling, and the meaning of what he had said now made sense.

She thought about how she truly didn't love him, and how she could push him away right now. She was sure he'd get mad and walk out. If they ended their engagement, she would take a hit to her reputation. She used to not care about that, but with her family all gone, and she now being the Champion, and the request from Ali … she knew she _needed_ to care. She couldn't keep her promise to him or Ferelden if she was the social outcast. She also knew that this marriage was the last thing her mother had told her she wanted. Her mother had pushed for this to happen, and as silly as it seemed, Hawke felt that if she let it end she'd lose that last connection she had to her family.

However, if she was being honest with herself, she knew she did this out of fear, fear that Bran knew her closely-guarded secret and might tell anyone were this to end. If they stayed together, it would be _their _closely-guarded secret.

Fear of being alone.

Fear of having and raising this baby by herself.

She had no idea what to do, or not to do. She was too young when her mother was pregnant with the twins, and Father always took her while Mother raised them. Bran wasn't what she had ever pictured being with, but she knew he would be there. She'd never be alone or want, nor would their children.

Sighing inwardly, she reached up, unbuttoning his shirt and vest. When they were removed, she caressed his chest. He growled and nipped at her lips and neck, his grip on her rough and demanding. She was thrown off by a glimpse of the Arishok grabbing her and holding her, his rough hands demanding her submission. Opening her eyes, she almost yelped in surprise, as it wasn't the Arishok's eyes looking back at her but Bran's. He gripped her hips and dragged her down under him, his still-covered cock straining against his pants, grinding against her core. She couldn't help the purr that came out, or the way her body betrayed her and pressed against him.

"That's right, my little kitten, purr for me," he whispered in her ear as he leaned down, biting her nipple enough to elicit a scream from her. He smiled.

Leaning back, he stood between her legs on his knees, placing his hands on his hips. "Well, are you going to unwrap your present?" he mocked. Hawke climbed up, looking up into his eyes as she went to untie the laces on his pants, but he smacked her hands away and ordered, "Use that pretty mouth of yours."

She licked the front of his pants right where his member pushed hardest against them, and he groaned. She nipped next, then latched onto the string and pulled. He all but fell out. She hadn't had a lot of experience with male anatomy on the human spectrum, but she was fairly sure Bran was 'well-endowed'. Not as big as the Arishok, but bigger than she expected.

"Lick it," Bran commanded.

She obliged, licking and sucking him, and she had to fight not to cringe. He tasted nothing like the Arishok. The Arishok had been spicy and almost sweet, his natural scent only increasing her desires, but Bran smelled musky and slightly of sweat. He was salty, almost repulsively so, and she knew instinctively that she would throw up if he came in her mouth. As it was, she held her breath as much as possible. He didn't seem to care or notice. In fact, the lack of breathing seemed to make him happier as he started to thrust wildly into her mouth, ramming himself down her throat. She felt his balls drawing up against her chin and throat and knew this meant he was getting close. Not wanting to ruin this by regurgitating on him, she withdrew him from her mouth. He pouted (she doubted he realized he was doing it), his face showing his displeasure. She just smiled a sultry smile and roughly pushed him back to lie on the bed.

She straddled his hips and slammed down on his member. He yelled in rapture. She couldn't help the mewls coming forth as she set a steady rhythm, and her juices started to flow more. The sucking and smacking sounds could be heard echoing off the walls. He gripped her hips and slammed up into her. She closed her eyes as her climax started to build; once they were closed it was so easy to picture another's hands, hands with claws, gripping her, slamming up into her, as his growls and grunts answered her moans and screams. The tight ball of tension in her peaked just as she felt a warm sensation shoot in her and down her thigh. She looked down, confused at first, to see Bran spent and almost asleep, his seed leaking out from her and his member flaccid against their thighs.

She rolled off the bed to go and wash off. She was mildly disgusted; it smelled as bad as she thought it would taste. Only when she was almost finished cleaning herself off did she realize: with the others she had been with, it had leaked but it didn't stink. It smelled of spices, honey, earthy in a good way. The Arishok, well, she never saw his because he always locked into her when he came so it wouldn't leak out. He said he couldn't _not _lock. He allowed her to suck him, but when he was just starting to come he'd remove himself from her mouth and ram into her. It was hot, always hot, almost scorching in temperature.

Arms circled her from behind. She felt Bran press against her.

"Mm, now that was a good apology. I will accept it," he said in a soothing, calm voice in her ear. He reached up and pulled her hair across her shoulder and kissed her nape. "I will inform Brother Sebastian that the wedding will continue as planned, but we will move it up to the end of the week. You will accompany me tonight to the Dupris's, and tomorrow evening to the Valspoks'. We will be affectionate, spreading the word that we cannot wait to be man and wife, hence the wedding date change. It would be wise to have your friends spread such as well. The more who know and believe it, the better. Less chance of gossip."

Hawke was silent, unmoving in his arms. For a moment he feared she had second thoughts. He didn't want to blackmail his bride, but he would if he had to. Thankfully, she turned in his arms, smiling a charming smile. "Yes, Bran."

"Maybe you should call me something, a name of affection or something."

Looking quizzically at him, she raised an eyebrow. "You want me to give you a pet name?"

"Perish the thought." Bran sneered in disgust. "However, it will make it more believable. You should still be in mourning, not going over-the-top in playing bride, and a simple name and obvious affection will be enough to go a long way to stay the rumor mill."

As she nodded her head in understanding, Hawke heard a soft knock on her bedroom door. She threw on her robe quickly to answer it. Bran went to dress by the bed, out of view of the door but close enough to hear what was said.

Sebastian stood there with a calm look on his face. "Hawke, are you well?"

"Yes, thank you, Sebastian." Turning her head to look behind the door, she saw Bran glaring at her. He mouthed a warning which she heeded. Looking up at her friend, she smiled and continued, "It is actually a blessing you came today."

"Is it really? And why is that, my friend?" he asked.

"I'm to be married. Ser Bran and I have decided to push up the wedding to the end of the week."

Shocked at this, Sebastian asked, "Are you sure? Elizabeth, there is no need to rush –"

He never finished as Ser Bran chose that moment to come around the door, draping a possessive hand around Hawke's shoulder and pulling her to him. "Now, my dear, be sure to rest. I shall return for you this evening." He leaned down and planted a kiss on her temple before moving through her and Sebastian and walking down the stairs.

Silence prevailed until they finally heard the door close from downstairs.

"Hawke, this is not right. You are with another man's child. I beg as your friend, do not do this." Sebastian seemed pained. Hawke was never an overly-religious person, but she wondered in that moment if she was going to the Void or Hell for what she was doing. As she looked up at Sebastian, she couldn't muster a smile anymore. She felt like she was about to be sick.

"It is done, Seb," she said as she looked down the hall from him. "I am to be a Missus by the end of the week. We talked, he knows I am with child, he knows it is not his, and he is still honoring our engagement. He – be happy for me, Seb. I will finally be an honorable noblewoman."

She looked back with a smirk on her lips, turning to walk back into her room to rest some more and then start preparing for the evening's festivities. She never caught the hurt, broken look on the Brother's face, or the green, sickly complexion that overcame him when he heard her.

She wore a tight, dangerously low, celestial blue dress that would have matched Sebastian's eyes perfectly. The dress was risqué, almost inappropriate. It hugged her curves like a second skin, riding low on her hips and then flaring out and flowing like an upside-down flower. Her breasts were already tender and swelling, though thankfully still perky, and her hips were already rounding. No doubt this would be the first and last time she wore this dress, as it was almost evident that she was in the family way. Her normally flat, hard stomach had a small bump. She had to keep repeating in her mind not to let her hands stray to it, lest she give her secret away.

Her hair was piled on top of her head and ringlets tumbled down over her smooth, exposed shoulders. Bran barely left her side all evening, even going so far as to dance with her three times, something even husbands and wives didn't do. It was almost scandalous.

At Bran's insistence, she had been trying different pet names on him, but nothing felt right. From 'muffin' to 'cupcake', 'honey', to 'darling', 'sweetheart', to 'teddy bear' (which got a bear of a response once they were alone), he hated every one of them. By the end of the night, after the embarrassment of her calling him names they didn't like, and the look in his eyes every time he heard a new one when she was running out, Hawke gave up and simply went with his given name, which still showed the intimacy that he wanted: _William._

The following day she dealt with her friends' confusion and outrage about her still-impending marriage. She gave them the falsehoods and fake smiles of affection that she knew none of them believed, except for Merrill. They all backed off for the moment.

She went out with Ser Bran that evening as well, to the Valspoks'. This night she wore a light grey dress her mother had made for Bethany, who had never had the opportunity to wear it. It had always been made for someone with rounder curves than Elizabeth had had, until now, of course.

What with the looks she got that night, and the suggestions and innuendos, she feared that someone was finding out sooner than she wanted. She and Bran got into an argument because of the attention she was drawing: she was used to having eyes on her, not used to worrying that they'd find something out that they shouldn't. He left under her advisement; they agreed that maybe they should cool off for tomorrow. They only had two more days until the wedding, so he was putting her mood down to the stress of wedding planning – and, of course, her emotions from the babe.

She was worried about how quickly she was rounding out. She thought it might be all in her head, that maybe she was imagining it worse than it really was, but she asked Anders to check again and make sure she really was only ten weeks along now.

"Hawke, you ask this every time I see you, and every time I tell you the same thing. Yes, you are only ten weeks along. Yes, you are showing more. No, it's not all in your head."

"I don't remember the other women at the clinic being this big so early," Hawke protested.

"Everyone is different. Some carry low, others carry high, some are so small you'd never even know they were pregnant. While others –" He gestured at her person. "– grow so large so quickly you'd think they were having multiple babies."

As he said this, Elizabeth's eyes widened in fear.

"Maker, you don't think I'm having more than one, do you?" she asked, terrified of his response.

Shaking his head in frustration, he ran his hands through his hair and turned to her, plopping down at his desk. "I can't tell for sure yet. It's too early. However, I truly don't think so. Look, Lizzy." He reached out for her small hands, drawing her close to him. She stood between his outstretched legs.

He'd loved her from the moment he met her. It had killed him to see her with the Qunari leader. He'd tried to woo her after _he _had left, only to lose her again to a stuffy noble, who lived a secret life but, true to his noble upbringing, still looked down on others. Hawke knew how Anders felt for her but didn't reciprocate the feelings.

He continued speaking as her eyes filled with tears yet to be shed. "Lizzy, you might want to keep in mind that the baby's father was classified as a giant. It is quite possible that the reason for your quick growth is from the father's side. He also wasn't human – I have no clue about the time period of pregnancy or the growth and development of their kind. For all we know, you could carry for only six months, or for a whole year!"

"Anders, we need to find out. Now!"

He agreed wholeheartedly. He didn't want to worry her with his other fears – what if the baby was born with horns? Or, since her flesh was so much weaker than theirs, what if the baby ripped its way out of her, killing her? What if the birth was too much for her weaker body to handle? All this and more plagued him at night.

"There's that Qunari-turned-mercenary we saved on the Wounded Coast. We could ask him."

"That Qunari in the Hightown courtyard by your house might know more as well," Anders offered before Hawke jumped and refused to go to him.

"We can get all we want from Merc. There is no need for the other as well."

"Hawke, maybe he could send a message to the Arishok about the baby. Surely he'd be interested in his offspring."

"It's not an animal, Anders!" she yelled. "This is _my_ baby, not his. He forfeited his rights when he walked out on us."

"But Hawke, he didn't know. Surely you can't blame him for leaving when he didn't know."

"Yes, I can. I didn't know either. If he'd just waited a little longer … just a little longer …"

She paused with a distant look in her eyes before continuing.

"It doesn't matter. I was 'but a means to an end'. I will not allow him to come back only to use this child as such!" she said, stronger now. She walked away from Anders towards the door to his clinic.

"Where are you going?" Anders asked.

"Home. We need our rest. Tomorrow is a big day." With that, she was gone.

That night Anders cried as he found release in the body of a whore who had a resemblance to his friend and heart's desire.

"By the Maker's authority, and the powers He invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Bran leaned in, lifting the veil fully over Hawke's head, and brushed a chaste kiss on her lips. They turned as the Grand Cleric announced them as Ser William and Lady Elizabeth Bran. She was no longer an Amell, nor a Hawke, but a Bran.

She never realized, but she hated the name. It was so plain.

They honeymooned away for a fortnight before pressing matters required that they return. At first, things were looking up – William was kind, sweet, almost affectionate and doting on her – but things changed after they returned to the city. He would come home late and leave early in the morning before she arose, and she became lonely. She wrote to her friends requesting they visit but most never responded, only Aveline and Anders. Aveline politely refused due to training her new guards, replacing those lost in the battle with the Qunari. And Anders only came once in a while to do a check-up on her, and once a month for an evening meal when William was home for work.

She never thought much of it, but her friends must have been busy now that she was on bed rest for the pregnancy. She had grown almost overnight; in fact, every morning her handmaiden would measure her. Elizabeth truly feared how round she was getting – at only five months, she looked to be full-term, if not over. Anders assuaged some of her fears when he told her of his talk with Merc, a Qunari they'd saved a while back.

"They carry for a full term of ten months. None are born with horns – they come just like a human baby, but they are bigger in length and weight, and the pregnancy lasts a month longer."

She sighed in relief for the first time since realizing this pregnancy was different. She slept deeply that night, all the while missing the whispers from her staff, and the moans and grunts from the room just down the hall.

Four months later, Hawke's marriage was not progressing as smoothly as a newlywed might hope.

"Get the fuck out!" she yelled, throwing a pillow and hitting Bran in the face.

"This is my house, Elizabeth! My room! I will not be thrown out of my own bed!" he yelled too, throwing back the offending pillow. He smirked as it caught her by surprise, hitting her in the face as well. When it fell away, her face was red with anger. She grabbed hold of her enormous stomach and waddled across the room, thanking the Maker she hadn't been sitting down yet or she'd never have gotten up. She shoved past him as she made her way out of the room, down the hall towards the stairs.

"Where in the bloody void do you think you're going, woman?" he yelled as he gave chase.

"Away from you, you disgusting, nug-humping bastard!"

"I beg your pardon? Who is the bastard here, you Qunari-loving whore!"

At that, Hawke turned so quickly that she lost her balance and before she knew what was happening, pain was shooting through her as she fell backwards down the stone stairway. Bran paled white as a ghost. He chased after her, trying to catch her and stop her tumble, but he was much too far away and not fast enough to stop her rolling down the stairs. By the time she hit the landing at the foot of the stairs, she was quiet and sprawled out.

Blood was seeping from her head and arms, a pool quickly forming under her skirts. Orana, the elven servant she had brought over from her household, came running and screaming when she found her mistress on the floor. Bran cleared his too-dry throat and ordered her to run as quickly as she could and retrieve the healer, Anders. Orana took off so quickly he never saw which way she went. He was too scared to move her in case he caused more damage.

Anders arrived shortly after Bran had set about cleaning her up. Anders stole a quick assessment then gave her a burst of healing magic to mend any broken bones. He attacked Hawke's belly with a vengeance, sending healing wave after healing wave, making sure the baby wasn't harmed.

"Will Mistress be alright, Ser Mage?" Orana asked in a whisper.

"The fall has separated the placenta from the wall of her uterus."

"What does that mean?" asked Bran in a subdued tone.

Anders looked up, glaring daggers at him. If he hadn't needed every ounce of mana, he'd have set his ass on fire. "What does it matter to you?" he sneered.

Red-faced in outrage, Bran straightened up, looking down his nose at Anders. "I'm her husband, Mage!"

"A husband that threw his pregnant wife down the stairs, you abusive jackass."

He would have continued arguing were it not for Hawke's pained groans. Her eyelashes fluttered open shortly after. "Anders, what – the baby, how is the baby?" she cried.

"Ssh," he cooed to her. He explained what had happened with the baby so far.

"You have to get it out! You have to save him! Save my baby, Anders!" she cried further, grabbing onto his robes.

"I don't understand. What does it mean?" Bran asked again. Anders turned on him.

"It means that the baby is suffocating. I only have so long to get it out, time which I am wasting talking to you! If you want to help as you claim, go fetch my medical supplies from my clinic and grab Merrill and Aveline. Possibly Sebastian."

Nodding, Bran turned and left the room. Anders bent over Hawke, chanting.

"What are you doing?" Hawke asked weakly.

"Putting you under a sleep spell so you won't feel the pain as I cut you open. Where are your daggers?"

"In my nightstand. Orana just cleaned them," she whispered as she fell into a deep sleep.

Anders reached over, pulling the dagger from the drawer. He cut open her night gown and then made an incision on the lower part of her belly. He cut shallow so as to not accidentally cut into the baby, but her blood still covered his hands as he got through her skin.

Orana came in with fresh water and towels. She surprised Anders with her knowledge of childbirth – in her old slave days she must have helped do this often. He cut through Hawke's uterus, then the placenta, finding the baby and pulling it out, cutting its cord. Orana was right there with a warm towel. Taking the baby, she wiped it clean and smacked its bottom to get it to cry.

No sound was heard.

* * *

><p><strong>oh, no...what happened? T-T stay toned next time to read if a sound was made.<strong>

**lol...ok so I want feed back, this is a very sensitive subject, next chapter was taking out of my personal life. I hope you guys enjoyed it, please send love by reviewing. I do a little girly scream everytime I log in to my email and is says I got Story follower/favorites. I read my reviews as well,,, I do a happy dance and read them to my hubby who smiles and nods...he learned well!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you, Thank you sooooo much for the fav's/follow's & Reviews it really makes my day ;D **

**There is a song in this chapter, it's from Chris Daughtry called, "Gone too soon" I sumbled upon it, I did change a few parts so it fit better with my story, so disclaimer: I do NOT own or have any rights to D.A. Origin, or 2...plus No rights to 'gone too soon'! now that that is out pf the way.**

**No smut this chapter, just rivers of tears. I'm sure you guys will have questions at the end of this chapter, hold them till the nxt one. This really is like a Part 1. so please be patient. last update for 2 weeks! just so you guys know and are aware! I love each and every one of you, this would not be possible if not for your love you send me, and my most AMAZING Beta reader! Who bust butt get you guys chapters you can read and understand! **

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Fenris had seen and heard a lot of commotion at Hawk– at Lady Bran's estate. He watched as messengers and runners were sent all over the city. He was surprised to see Guard Captain Aveline bidden entrance, followed shortly by Sebastian, then the she-witch herself, Merrill. Varric was wandering around outside the house sticking to the shadows, but the dwarf was never one to blend in. Leaving his perch by the window, Fenris left his 'borrowed' mansion and grabbed the dwarf, who jumped almost as high as Fenris stood.

"Broody! Bloody hell, we need to get you a bell or something," Varric stammered as he tried to get his heart rate back down.

Fenris gave him an icy glare. "I do not answer to bells or whistles, dwarf!" he ground out.

Varric was momentarily stunned before he broke out in uproarious laughter. "Not what I meant, Broody. I just meant one of these days you're going to give me a heart attack being as quiet as you are."

Seeming placated, Fenris nodded in understanding, glancing back to the Brans' house. "Why are you not inside with the others?"

"Would you believe I seem to have lost my invitation? Silly, I know." Varric laughed again, only to stop as the brooding look from his elven friend intensified. It appeared he wasn't the only one snuffed out from Hawke's life. Varric knew she was married now – hell, he was at the damn thing – but he just could never equate her to 'Lady Bran'. She was and always would be simply Hawke. "You too, Broody?" he asked, nodding his head in communal sympathy.

Fenris nodded as well in agreement. "Since the return from the wedding trip," he grumbled, looking anywhere but the dwarf. His cheeks were a light pink from the embarrassment of being seen through so easily.

"Bloody nug-humper tried to kick me out of the wedding. He didn't seem to like some of the stories I was telling." Varric shrugged his shoulders. "Ugh, his loss."

"Why are you here now, then, dwarf?" Fenris asked, truly curious now.

"Same reason you are, I'm sure: curiosity. Daisy was with me when the runner came to deliver his 'urgent message' to her."

"Any idea as to what it pertained?"

"None, but if my tingling chest hairs are anything to go by, it isn't good."

Just as he said that, Merc rounded the corner from the stairs and ran right past them to the Bran estate, and was actually allowed in. They were floored. They knew Merc, the Qunari-turned-Tal-Vashoth-turned-mercenary. They had helped rescue him from the Wounded Coast. Seeing him run like that and be permitted, the forboding feeling intensified.

Fenris wasn't taking it anymore. Without looking away from the door, he addressed his fellow friend. "I don't know about you, dwarf, but I'm getting in that house. Something isn't right and I don't like the looks of this."

"Right behind you, elf," Varric said. They advanced on the door.

Once they forced their way inside it was eerily quiet. Fenris followed where his instincts told him he would find Hawke. He and Varric made it up to the second story landing when a scream rang out; it was ear-piercing and full of fear.

They charged down the hallway. The staff was terrified and either huddled in corners saying the Chant or sending up prayers, or running for the back doors. They made it to a room where voices could be heard, the door left cracked open. The sight that they beheld would forever be stained into their memories.

Hawke lay on the large, four-poster bed, with what looked to be gallons of blood soaking into the sheets and splashed across her face and abdomen, making her already-pale skin almost look translucent. There were bruises and marks, cuts and bumps, covering her exposed skin. Fenris pushed into the busy room and saw Anders leaning over Hawke's unmoving body, attempting to work his magic into her lifeless form.

Merrill and Orana were holding bunched-up towels with equally worried expressions of concern and fear. Aveline stood by Bran, yelling at him to get a hold of himself as he leaned over a chamber pot, letting loose his meals. Sebastian was kneeling at the other side of the bed, praying for Hawke. Lastly, they saw Merc on the bed, leaning over Hawke's protruding belly. His clawed hands were shoved into her body and he was covered in blood all the way to his elbows.

'Chaos' was a fairly good description for what was going on. Fenris lit up his markings from the anger that surged through him. Varric stepped around him and yelled loud and clear to catch everyone's attention, which he did. "What in the name of the bloody Maker is going on here?"

"Varric, not now," came Aveline's quiet response.

"No. _Now_, Aveline," demanded Fenris.

Silence met his demand. For a moment it seemed like none would obey. Just as he was about to yell his order, Anders collapsed on the floor where he'd stood when they entered. He was pale as a ghost, dark blue shadows standing out on his once-handsome face. He was drained to the very last drop of mana. He had used all he had to save Hawke; now she had to do the rest. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Anders looked up at the two by the door and answered their inquiry.

"Hawke took a nasty tumble down the stairs." At this, he paused, shooting daggers with his eyes at Bran so everyone knew it was his fault. Then he continued, "I found her. She had several broken ribs, luckily for her none that pierced her lungs. Her left arm was shattered, and there was a fracture to her right leg. She cracked her skull like an egg. The worst was the baby – the placenta had detached itself from the wall of her uterus and the baby was suffocating. I put Hawke to sleep so she wouldn't be in any more pain. Poor girl was awake when I came in. She demanded I save the baby first. As I put her to sleep I cast a few minor healing spells to help keep her alive while I worked on the baby. I used her dagger to open her up –"

He paused for breath, and because he was not sure if he should go on.

It didn't matter: at that moment the baby finally made its presence known with a grunt and growl from Orana's arms. It sounded like a pig rutting around.

"Oh, bless the Maker! I thought for sure it was –" Orana stopped her happy, shy ramble as she caught the eyes of everyone in the room. Blushing to the tips of her pointy ears, she bravely mumbled a suggestion. "We should get a wet nurse, seeing as how Mistress is … not in any condition to feed them," she finished off quickly.

Fenris and Varric had not missed her reference. "'Them'?" Fenris asked. Nodding her head, Orana turned the bundle in her arms – as did Merrill.

Silence ensued.

_Twins!_

"Twins! Why am I so surprised? She was as big as a house! She had twins, just like Bethany and Carver!" Varric careened like a proud father.

"There is more," Merc grunted, as he pulled out another, but this one was not like the others. The two already swaddled had a glow to their skin, not quite fleshy-colored and not quite grey like their sire. They could have passed for very pale humans with a silverish tint to their skin. However, the one Merc held was not glowing with life. It lay slack in his large claws. He had tilted it and rubbed its chest and stomach, but nothing came out of its airways; they were clear.

Merrill awkwardly handed over her bundle to Varric as she came over to the Qunari, who was still kneeling on the bed. She took the last baby, sending warm, heating pulses to it. She didn't realize, but she was crying. She used her magic to examine it. Nothing.

No heartbeat, no pulse, no breath. Just nothing.

She held the dead baby to her chest and let rip her giant sobs of hurt and loss. She felt as if she herself had lost the baby. She mourned for the life it would never have, the amazing mother it would never get to meet, and the 'aunts' and 'uncles' that would never get to spoil it. She also cried for Hawke, who didn't know what she had lost yet.

"Oh, you poor, little Hawkeling. Know that your mother loved you, even though she didn't get to hold you or name you yet. You will always be loved and missed." Her voice cracked and finally fled her.

"I'll go find a wet nurse," Fenris said, walking quietly out of the sorrowful room.

There was not a dry eye in there; even Merc, their Qunari friend, let a single tear escape. Aveline went and held the baby that Orana had handled, crying quietly into the blanket with the baby. Varric allowed tears to run freely down his face. Even Bran had a few, but whether they were from grief or mourning, Fenris did not know.

Fenris didn't want to cry in front of the others. It wouldn't help anything. It wouldn't bring back Hawke's baby. Still, when he was alone in the hall, for a moment he allowed the sobs to let loose. He shook with the force of them, so great was the pain in his heart for the innocent baby that would never be. He allowed it to take hold of him a little longer, then he took several deep breaths to calm down. He had a mission to do, and as quickly as possible.

Two days!

Two days it took for Hawke to wake up. Two days the twins were without their mother, at the mercy of a wet nurse. Two days her friends, whom she feared abandoned her, stayed with her and nursed her back from the brink of death. Two days her 'husband' Ser Bran ignored her and the babies, choosing to stay at the keep in his office. Two days the gang of misfits talked about why they hadn't been around and what caused it.

They had put the deceased baby in the nursery and loaded the room up with flowers. They didn't want to have the funeral until Hawke woke up. Thankfully, on the third day in the early morning hours, she stirred. Anders was sleeping on one side of her and Merrill on the other, both holding a hand, and both alerted the second she fluttered her pretty eyelashes.

"Hawke?" Anders whispered in awe. He had feared she would never wake again.

"Anders," she forced out through her parched throat. "Where is my baby?"

Merrill turned over, grabbing a glass of water and turning back to Hawke. She gently helped lift her head and hold the glass so she could drink. The water was cool and blessedly wet, quenching her thirst.

Putting the empty glass down, Hawke repeated her question, clearer now. "Where is my baby? Did you save it?"

She watched Anders's face blanch for a moment. Fear overtook her. She tried as best she could to get up and out of bed, but Anders grabbed her shoulders, pushing her down to rest. She was stronger than she should have been, considering what she went through. Once his mana returned he went back to healing her body. Even Merrill, who wasn't much of a healer, helped. She had been making potions and using a few spells she knew to boost an ally's mana. Were it not for her, he doubted very much that he'd be struggling as much to hold Hawke down right now.

"Hawke – Lizzy – you need to rest! You almost died. You _need _to rest," he ordered. She, however, was too stubborn to listen. She shoved Anders off her and avoided Merrill's attempts at capture. She ran, stumbling down the hall to the nursery she had set up for her baby.

When she opened the door the smell hit her like a knife in the heart. There was the floral scent, but underneath that was the unmistakable smell of death and decay. She shuffled into the room towards the crib. There she saw him: her son.

Her precious baby she had loved and sang to, the baby she had carried and protected. Her son she would never know, never hol–

She stopped that thought before it finished. She _would _hold her son, even if he was gone. She would not let him be put to rest without ever knowing what it felt like to have a mother's embrace, full of love. She gingerly picked him up, cradling him to her chest. She walked over to the rocking chair she had rought over from the Hawke-Amell estate, the same rocking chair her grandmother rocked her mother in. Hawke herself never had that, as her mother had run away with her apostate husband.

She rocked and sang a lullaby.

"_Today could have been the day,_

_Everybody was laughing,_

_Instead I just sit here and cry,_

_Who would you be?_

_What would you look like,_

_When you looked at me for the very first time?_

_Today could have been the next day of the rest of your life._

_Not a day goes by, that I didn't think of you, _

_I'll always be asking why this crazy world had to lose_

_Such a ray of sunlight we never knew, gone too soon. _

_Would you have been Viscount, or a warrior, a soldier, or sing like your mother?_

_One thing is evident, I would've given all I had, would've loved you like no other._

_Who would you be, what would you look like, would you have my smile and his eyes?_

_Today could have been the next day of the rest of your life._

_Not a day goes by, that I don't think of you,_

_I'm always asking why this crazy world had to lose such a ray of sunlight we never knew,_

_Gone too soon,_

_Not a day has gone by,_

_Oh,_

_I'm always asking why._

_Not a day will go by, that I won't think of you, _

_I'll always ask why this crazy world had to lose such a beautiful light we never knew,_

_Gone too soon, you were gone too soon, yeah,_

_Not a day will go by, that I won't think of you."_

Elizabeth Bran ended, crying her heart out. It felt like someone was ripping her heart out of her chest in the slowest and most painful way possible. She gasped for air, and didn't hear or see the Qunari watching her quietly by the door. He left before she ever saw him, walking out of the manor. No one saw him again in the city.

After some time, Aveline walked in, kneeling by her chair. She brushed the hair from Hawke's face, and such a motherly gesture had Hawke crying harder. Her mother should have been here doing this.

"Hawke," Aveline cooed.

"No, not now, Aveline. I can't get over it. I need time."

"Ssh, Elizabeth, I know, I understand. Take your time. Mourn in your time." Yes, it was not what she had told her when her mother passed, but this was different. Her mother had lived. Children were meant to bury their parents; a parent should never have to bury their child, and definitely not an infant that never got a chance to live.

"I carried him. I waited patiently, or as close as I could get to it, for him. I gave everything to make him happy, to give him a home, a family." Guilt and hurt wrenched at her.

Aveline leaned back, confused about what she heard. "Liz, did you marry Seneschal Bran for your baby?"

Hawke looked at Aveline like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, fearing the punishment, and nodded. "I wanted my baby to have a family. I remembered what it was like when my father was still alive. We were happy. I wanted that again, wanted my baby to know the love of a family."

Shaking her head, Aveline sighed, "You stupid, stupid girl. You didn't have to marry that stuffed shirt. You already have a family, Hawke."

Hawke looked up at her, not understanding, then it dawned on her. She glared at her friend. "Yes, some family. From the minute I said 'I do', none of you except Anders came around. You were all too busy, or just never answered when I sent letters to you. I was virtually alone!"

The shock and red tint on Aveline's face as she tried not to boil over made Hawke second-guess herself. No; she _was _right. _They_ abandoned _her_, not the other way around.

"Elizabeth Carrie Hawke-Bran! I never abandoned you! I received no letter. In fact, I was worried since I hadn't heard anything from you that I had guards and spies stationed around your house making sure nothing had happened to you. Seneschal Bran saw my guards and ordered them removed. He said it was a waste of taxpayers' money to station guards around the house of the Champion. I tried sending you letters. Some would come back, but most were delivered to your home, to your butler."

Shaking her head in denial, Hawke read and heard the sincerity in Aveline's face and voice. She knew she wasn't lying, but Hawk _knew _she sent letters out. Anders had still come when she called – why him and nobody else?

"It's true, Hawke," Varric offered, standing at the door, Bianca-less.

"What do you mean?" Hawke asked.

"That 'husband' of yours tried to have me thrown out of the wedding. Said I was too crass and didn't belong. I thought it was wedding jitters … or jealousy." He gestured to his chest, where his chest hair was sticking out of his shirt. There were a few hairless spots that Hawke didn't remember. "You'd be jealous too, standing next to all this glorious chest hair."

He laughed at his own joke. Aveline rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. Even Hawke couldn't help the little giggle that escaped her lips.

"Aw, that sound is as beautiful as I remembered. I missed you, Hawke."

She blushed and looked down at her son, still in her arms.

Varric quickly continued so she didn't start crying again. He hated it when women cried, but Hawke crying was like tiny knives shoved under your nails into your veins and ice over your heart. "While you were catching up on your beauty rest, we all got a chance to talk. Sad to say, but other than Blondie on occasion, and Daisy, none of the rest of us has kept in contact since your wedding. We need you, Hawke. You're the Darkspawn goo that holds us together."

"Thanks, Varric. You always do say the nicest things." Hawke rolled her eyes in amusement. This banter didn't stop the pain or ache in her heart, but it did help her breathe through it, though.

Blushing slightly himself – something he couldn't really remember doing in recent times – Varric continued.

"Well, there's not another woman like you, my dear, but I digress. We talked, and found we were all experiencing the same issues. We all tried to come see you, only to be sent away, either by your butler or Bran himself. It didn't sit right with me, so Broody and myself did some snooping. It turns out your husband has been hiding your correspondences to us, and ours to you."

He pulled out several large bundles of letters addressed to Hawke, or from her to her friends. Some were open, while most were still sealed.

"Where did you find them?" Hawke asked, reaching with one hand to get the letters. Varric handed over a smaller bundle to her, and the larger rest of the stack to Aveline. It was silent for a few minutes as Hawke scanned letter after letter. She was floored. There was no reason why anyone should have stopped her letters to her friends. She had made no claims that she didn't want to see them, never even hinted at it.

"I'm sorry, my friends. I never knew … had I known, I promise you this would never have stood!" Hawke was angry. No – _furious_. How dare Bran think he could control her?

"Nobody blames you, Hawke. We saw the truth almost immediately. My only regret is that we didn't come sooner, before this happened," Varric said as he looked at the baby still in Hawke's arms. Elizabeth looked down and fought the tears that wanted to start again.

"Are you going to name him?" Aveline asked. Hawke nodded her head.

"He deserves that much. 'Harshad'. Giver of joy. Even though I had you for so little time, I still had joy in carrying you and knowing you and your father," Elizabeth whispered to the baby. She kissed his cheek once more, rising and placing him in his crib. She held onto the bed, just staring at him.

"His funeral will be tomorrow morning, with the sunrise. Varric, have someone build a pyre in the compound by the docks. On the side, up the stairs to the right, you should be able to overlook the sea."

"Liz, do you think that wise? I'm sure we can find some place better, more fitting," Aveline questioned. She was cut off by Elizabeth.

"It was where he was conceived. If his father can't be here in body, he will be here in spirit." Turning around, Hawke faced her long-time friends. "Besides, can you see the Grand Cleric blessing him and giving last rights to him? He might not look the spitting image, but there is enough of his father in him that you can tell he is not all human." She laughed humorlessly. "I seriously doubt they'd even allow his name on the memory wall, where all those who've passed are. It's hard enough getting it on there when a human infant dies. I can't imagine it will be any easier, considering his origin."

Nodding their heads, neither of the others protested.

"Would you like help back to your room, Liz?" Aveline asked.

Elizabeth shook her head in denial. "No, thank you. I'm going to stay here a while longer. Would you mind giving me some privacy, though? I want to be alone with him just a little longer."

Elizabeth had spent all night in the nursery. Merrill found her shortly before sunrise and bathed and dressed her. As she came down the stairs to the front entrance, the sight that met Hawke filled her heart with both joy and heartache. All her friends and her only surviving family member, her uncle Gamlen, were waiting. She didn't miss the tiny, wooden box lined with red silk and black and blue roses. Or the tiny body lying so still inside.

They walked through the city, still encased in darkness. By the time they reached the compound the sky was just starting to lighten up. Hawke saw the tall pyre Varric had built for her son; it was fit for a king. She saw people already there, dressed in black, mourning her son. She looked around, truly surprised at how many were there. Pressure on her hand made her turn to see Uncle Gamlen was holding it. He wasn't smiling. This wasn't a joyous occasion, but he was letting her know he was here, that she was not alone. Nothing had meant so much to her before. Elizabeth reached up on her tiptoes and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. Blushing to his ears, he turned to look at the pyre. Sebastian and Fenris were standing where the Grand Cleric normally would.

"I must admit, I am at a loss. I'm – I'm not sure what the tradition is for one so small," Sebastian stammered, embarrassed. Fenris rested a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward.

"Allow me, my friend." He cleared his throat and started in a clear, deep, baritone voice.

"As tradition goes with different –" He paused, quickly searching for the right word. "– religions of parents, the son would be raised as the father believed, and a daughter as the mother. For Harshad, giver of joy, his parents are proud and strong. His people would not care so much for the body as it is now soulless – however, that doesn't mean that he would be forgotten." Fenris angled his head to look into Hawke's beautiful, ice-blue eyes as he said the next part. "Know that in your sorrow, in your pain, he is there. Forever watching, forever loved, forever embraced, by you and those who care to remember."

He finished, stepping aside as Sebastian stepped forward and said a short blessing in prayer.

Aveline shocked everyone as she stood and sang the song Hawke had sung to her son in the nursery when she thought she was alone. Varric stood up, holding a torch out for Hawke, giving her the honor of lighting the pyre. She stood on shaky legs, grabbing on surprisingly tightly to Varric's hand and begging him not to let go. They lit the pyre together as the sun finally crested over the compound wall, facing the ocean. People started to leave after that. Hawke was frozen in place, watching the horizon, the rising sun. In her head she heard a soft, happy baby laugh, as her father's voice filtered to her across the Void.

"_Do not fret, little one. He is well taken care of. I will watch him 'til it is your time to join us, but that is not yet. You have much to do, my daughter, but know that we all – Bethany, Carver, Harshad, myself and Mother, and your grandparents – are watching you. We are so proud of you. Continue on, my daughter. Life still comes, even in the midst of the storm."_

With that, a heavy burden on her heart was lifted. She could breathe easier. She still missed her family and wanted her son alive in her arms, but she knew right now it was not meant to be. She would continue to make them all proud.

She turned to see all her friends and Gamlen still there, waiting for her. She smiled, and for the first time, it met her eyes.

**hope you enjoyed and cried (please tell me if you cried! I'm not a overly emotional person, so this was a REALLLLLY hard chapter to right!) don't forget to drop some love, REVIEW! AND happy holidays to y'all!**


	8. Chapter 8

**So Sorry for the long wait, here is the nxt chapter, obviously. lol. Hope you guys enjoy this one, it was fun at times and a pain in the butthole in others! don't mind my language my 8yr old is addicted to saying that, starting to rub off. same speech, reviews would be fabulous~ **

**Hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year all that. :)**

**~*~WARNING~*~ In this chapter is a reference to m/m, Please do NOT think I am judging or think little of them. My brother is gay and proud. While I personally do not perscribe to it, I love and care for him. I have made some amazing friends through his ex's.. lol... and friends as well. I promise to make it up to anyone who is offended. but it is my story in the end :) ~*~**

**No smut this chapter, story is moving along A LOT in this, so it is kinda important chapter... anyway sure you don't want to read my ramblings.**

**Thanks goes to my amazing Beta reader who works even on vacation to bring you guys these chapters :) **

**I do NOT own D.A or it's people...just my creative juices.**

**ENJOY ~**

That day did not end at all how she pictured it. It started with a funeral for her son, but ended in hundreds if not thousands of deaths.

She left the funeral and went to the Hanged Man for breakfast. They all laughed and cried as story after story was told to reminisce about those they had all lost. Her cousin, whom Elizabeth didn't remember seeing at the funeral, came and collected Gamlen sometime after lunch. The rest broke apart shortly after and she headed back to her estate – no, to Ser Bran's estate. She had Varric do one more favour for her and he came through as always.

Upon entering, she found Bran in the library with a 'friend'. Elizabeth just smiled at their embarrassment and threw the papers Varric had acquired for her.

"William, you have been served. I have beseeched the Chantry for an annulment, which was granted."

Bran jumped to his feet, looking at the paper that was clearly authentic and stated that Elizabeth Carrie Hawke-Bran was no longer 'Bran', but just 'Hawke' once again. The marriage was annulled and reasoning was marked as 'false pretenses'.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Bran yelled, spit flying out as he spoke.

"Since we have yet to be married a year, and I obviously had another's child, the Chantry felt that it was justified." Hawke leaned her head to the side, watching Bran turn first pink, then red, then blue, then ending at purple. She thought she could almost see steam coming from his ears.

"I already knew the bastards weren't mine! You bloody whore, what the hell is the meaning of this all of a sudden? I thought we had an arrangement."

"Like that I hide your secret that you preferring men over women? Or that the only way it seems you can have relations with women is to be rough? Or that you manipulated a pregnant, hormonal and distraught woman into marrying you? Or that you secluded me from my family and friends so that you could further manipulate me? Or that the reason I just had to spread my son's ashes was because of the fight you started and me falling down the stairs? If _that _is what you are worried about coming out, have no fear, William. I will not tell your secrets, not from my mouth. I told the Grand Cleric how _I _falsely let you believe that I loved and cared for you, and what you thought of me. The baby wasn't yours, that you were in shock and that was why you did not show at the funeral at dawn. As for the citizens, myfriends and I told them that you were mourning the baby. When the news breaks of our marriage ending – and it will, soon, as I'm moving back to my estate now – they will all think it is due to the loss of my baby. So have no fear, Bran. Your secrets are safe, for now."

Elizabeth turned and walked out the door. Varric had already sent movers to remove all her belongings and family heirlooms back to her estate.

When she returned to her home, finally, she was met by a distraught Templar. He said Knight-Captain Cullen had sent for her, and it was most urgent business. He relayed a story of the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter arguing bitterly and both rushing off to the Grand Cleric. Cullen feared there would be bloodshed. Hawke quickly ran upstairs and donned her Champion's armor and sent letters to her friends saying to meet her by the Chantry steps.

When she arrived, Fenris was the only one of her companions there so far. The Knight-Commander and First Enchanter were already there and arguing bitterly.

"You will _not _involve Her Grace in this!" Knight-Commander Meredith ordered as she roughly grabbed First Enchanter Orsino by the arm, dragging him back to her. Orsino ripped his small arm from her grasp just as forcefully.

"Why? So you can hide the abuses of you and your Templars for longer?" When Hawke caught his eye, Orsino turned to her in relief. "Hawke, thank the Maker you are here."

"This does not involve you, _Champion_." Meredith sneered the title with loathing.

Hawke's hackles were raised. "I was beseeched to come and intervene by one of your own Commander," she informed Meredith with a smirk on her face.

Just as Meredith was gearing up for a righteous lecture, Anders came running to the group. "Enough!" he yelled, grabbing everyone's attention. "Grand Cleric Elthina cannot help you! The time for compromise is over. I will not sit by and watch other Mages be carted around like slaves while we bow down to our Templar jailers!"

"Now, see here –"

"How dare you, Abomination –"

Orsino and Meredith's outrage was interrupted as the ground started to shake.

"Anders?" Hawke asked, frightened by what was happening. Fenris leapt onto her, taking her to the ground and using his body to protect her as a massive explosion rent the air.

From her spot on the ground she could see a giant, purple light shooting out of the Chantry. It emanated an ear-piercing screeching sound, pulling apart the Chantry building block by block. Instead of falling down as one would expect, the blocks took to the air in a swirling mass around the light. Finally, the screeching turned into a pulsing sound that got faster and faster until it was one continuous beat. The light grew brighter as well, finally exploding again, this time shooting out and knocking back anyone still standing nearby.

Hawke couldn't see anything for a moment, nor hear anything but a ringing in her ears. Slowly her sight and hearing came back, and she saw Meredith struggling to roll over in her bulky armor. There was Orsino, shaking his head and banging his ears to dislodge something from them. Templars and her friends, who had all finally made it, lay scattered on the ground.

Elizabeth shoved Fenris off her body, taking in the chaos. Looking over to where Anders last stood, she saw him climbing back to his feet.

"Anders, what have you done?" She reached out to touch him, but he pulled away as if scorched by her very touch. She flinched at his actions, and guilt crossed his face quickly before cold indignation covered it.

"Elthina! What have you done, Abomination?" Sebastian yelled.

"I removed the chance for compromise, because there is no compromise," Anders replied.

"You have murdered innocents! Elthina, the Mothers and Sisters of the cloth! Their blood is on your hands!"

Hawke walked between the two, placing a gentle hand on both of them. "Anders, was this Justice's doing? Did he make you do this?"

Even before she finished, Anders was shaking his head in denial. "No. Justice has ceased to exist. He is Vengeance, and we are one now."

"Hawke, did you help him? Did you know he would do this?" Sebastian demanded as if Hawke were already guilty. She was hurt and angry at him for even thinking it.

"No, never!" she replied.

"No," confirmed Anders. "Hawke had nothing to do with this. In fact, that is why I couldn't be around her so much. Bran never forced me away. I felt guilty, and feared she'd realize something was off and ask. I didn't want to lie to you, Hawke, but I couldn't risk you finding out and trying to stop me."

In an all-too-calm voice, Knight-Commander Meredith finally spoke.

"The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic, the Chantry in ruins. I hereby call for the Right of Annulment. Every Mage in the tower and city is to be killed. The tower must be made clean again."

Orsino blanched. He turned to the Champion. "Help! You can't let her do this! The Circle didn't even do anything!"

Meredith sighed sadly. "It is too late for that. Even if I could stay my hand, the city will cry out for justice to be served."

"How is this justice, to kill innocents who had nothing to do with it?"

"None is truly innocent," she murmured.

Aveline began to yell. "This is madness! You must stand with the Knight-Commander, Hawke. If there is to be any justice, it will be swift."

"No!" said Merrill fearfully. "The Mages didn't do anything wrong, just one of them! Is it really right to condemn so many for one's folly?"

"I think I'm sick of Templars and Mages alike," Varric said as he rubbed his head.

"He deserves to die for his crimes against the Chantry," Sebastian hissed in anger.

Elizabeth turned to Fenris. He made no secret that he hated Mages, but surprisingly, he stood quiet. "And you, Fenris? What say you?" she asked him.

"You know my feelings on the matter of Mages, Hawke. However, I trust you. I will gladly fight at your side in battle, my friend." He bowed his head in respect.

She turned back around to see Orsino, Meredith and Anders watching and waiting on her. She knew Anders had a righteous reason for what he did: the Chantry had slaughtered hundreds, if not thousands, of innocents, Mage and non-Mage alike. However, Meredith was right, too: this city leaned on and respected its Chantry. The people would call for blood. Even if Hawke saved Anders now, there was no doubt in her mind that he would be a fugitive and get killed – if not now, then soon.

Elizabeth walked up to Anders. She held his hands. She read in his eyes that he knew she'd made her decision, and he accepted that.

"I'm sorry, Anders. I love you and thank you for your friendship and for being there when I was alone. Know that I do not condemn you for your decision, but I wish to spare you a horrible death, one we both know would come quicker than you'd hope."

He nodded his head as a tear escaped. "I'm glad it's you, then. Just do it quickly."

Hawke kissed his cheek. She walked around behind him, drawing her dagger, but just as she was about to stab him he said something that changed her whole world.

"Tell your twins about me. Don't let me be forgotten, Hawke. And know that I truly did love you."

Before she lost her nerve, she shoved the knife into his spine. He fell over, slowly dying. She didn't miss the quick looks from her friends. They hadn't wanted her to know yet, and even though she was burning for information, it would have to wait until later.

"I will protect the innocents," she claimed. She heard disagreements from her friends, but that was normal. The threats from Knight-Commander Meredith were also normal; everyone threatened her when she was against them. However, she hadn't expected betrayal from Sebastian. He yelled, threatened, and then ultimately left her.

The group fought for hours, all the way to the Gallows, against wave after wave of Templars. Orsino stupidly resorted to blood magic, and what hurt Hawke the most was finding out she had been fighting for hours next to the man who helped kill several women, including her own mother. She took satisfaction in driving her daggers into his beady little eyes. They fought their way out of the Gallows to be confronted by Meredith and Cullen. Cullen wanted mercy; Meredith wanted everyone's death. Finally Cullen stood up to her, ending in a long, drawn-out battle.

Several times Hawke thought, _this is it, I'm going to die_. Then she'd remember what Anders had said. She had twins. For the last two days she had thought she was alone, having lost her baby. Now she had something to live for – not one, but two!

Finally, when it was all over, Cullen held back the guards from arresting her.

"Hawke, I and this city should be on our knees begging you to be Viscountess, but you know we cannot. I am pained to think of my friend in jail, or worse. I can only give you this night. My guards will arrive at sunrise to arrest you and your companions. Know that this is all the reward I can offer you. I am sorry."

"That's it?" Varric asked.

"That's very generous of you, Cullen. We thank you." Bowing her head in respect, Hawke and her companions left the Gallows courtyard. On the ferry across to the docks, she told everyone to head to her estate, and they'd go over the plan from there.

They walked into her mansion and she turned to Bodahn, informing him that they needed to pack everything up – she was leaving tonight. She then turned on her group.

"You all need to pack and finish whatever business you need to. Meet in the compound at the docks two hours before sunrise."

"Do you really think he's going to let you go that easily?" Varric asked skeptically.

Hawke didn't even need to think about it. "Cullen is an honorable man. He owes me several life debts. Yes, I think he will uphold his end. Now I will now yours." She glared at them all.

"What are you talking about?"

"Twins!" was all she said.

"Caught that, did you?" Varric laughed nervously.

"Why didn't anyone tell me? Were you _ever _going to tell me?"

"Yes! Maker, Hawke, there just wasn't a good time," Aveline replied, exhausted from all the fighting. "You were mourning the son that you did lose. We didn't know if you could handle more."

"Aveline, I've never known you to coddle me. There was time to have told me so. None of you had faith in me, in my ability to handle it. Yes, I lost another family member, but I still have two more. I will cry and mourn for my family, but I will celebrate the life that still is."

Everyone nodded and looked guilty.

"Where are they?" she asked in a whisper, as if speaking of them more would cause them to disappear."

"Varric's," Fenris said right away.

"What? Why?"

"I can't help it. They are charmers, like myself," Varric answered with a smile. "Plus, with the noise in the tavern, they'll sleep better through commotions. Besides, the ladies just love them."

Groaning, Hawke said, "Great. You're pimping out my three-day-old infants."

Varric just smiled unabashedly. "I'll tell you what, Hawke. Finish packing here, then meet me at the tavern and we'll introduce you to them."

"How are we getting out of the city?" Merrill asked.

"Don't worry about that , Daisy. I have a friend who can help us with that. I already sent a letter telling them to make ready."

"When did you do this, Varric?" Hawke questioned.

"I have my ways, Hawke." Varric grinned and walked out the door, followed by the others.

Twins! She couldn't believe it. She still had hope; she still had a family.

She got herself ready quickly, wanting to get to Varric's as soon as possible. She signed over the deed to the estate to Gamlen's daughter, leaving a substantial settlement for the two of them. She stipulated that in the case of Gamlen trying to barter the house in another gamble, it would change hands immediately to Varric Tethras's squire, until Varric himself or Hawke or her surviving children returned to the city. She packed two large chests full of coins and treasure, clothes, and pictures. She left orders for Varric's steward to pack up her books and ship them to King Alistair of Ferelden. She wrote quick note and sealed it to ship with them as well, informing Alistair that she would one day seek them out. The only piece of furniture she ordered packed was her family's rocking chair.

She rushed down to the cellar, exiting through Darktown and coming out next to Anders's clinic. It was like a knife in the heart: she felt betrayed by him, almost as much as she felt _she _had betrayed _him._ She could have fought for him, made him put to right what he did. Touching the oil lamp he normally had on, she found it empty and cold. He hadn't been practicing for a while; he'd been at her bedside for days. Tears slid down her face as she said a quick prayer for her friend, then, turning, she continued on to Lowtown.

It was eerily quiet on the way; with the fights off the streets and the late hour, most were snug in bed asleep. She snuck into the Hanged Man and crept up the stairs, pushing Varric's door open. The sight that greeted her was one of awe.

Fenris and Varric were the only ones in the room at this point, holding and cooing over two tiny bundles in their arms. Hawke took a moment to treasure the scene, then, covering her sentimental side with ill humor, she had to say, "Aww, how precious. You two make a handsome couple. Tell me, which one breastfeeds?"

Fenris growled at her and the bundle in his arms grunted in agreement with his agitation. Varric laughed. "No milk to be found under all this manly chest hair, Hawke, but you're welcome to try," he teased with a wink. The bundle in his arms apparently didn't think it as funny: it started to struggle and whine.

Like a moth to flame, Elizabeth Hawke moved to Varric and the unhappy bundle. She reached out without even thinking about it. Varric willingly handed it over, saying, "Meet your mother, little one." As if it understood, it quieted, and once in Hawke's arms it snuggled into her chest.

Hawke sighed. It felt like a piece of her had been missing but she hadn't known it, until it was back and the piece was filled in. She pulled the blanket back to look at her baby. Right away it was obvious it was a she. She had a daughter. Her skin glowed with health and she had a thick mop of silver hair. The skin was flesh-colored with a grey tint to it, and she had Hawke's button nose and full, pouty lips. Her eyes were large and shaped like a Qunari's, but their color was Hawke's own, a bright ice blue.

Her daughter's beauty stole her breath. Never had she seen anyone or anything as stunning. "Kaitara," Hawke named her. It just came to her.

Fenris walked over, looking down at her. "A fitting name, Kaitara," he said as he handed over the other baby to Hawke. He unwrapped this one for her. It was a boy. His skin was the same, as was his hair, a mop of thick silver-white. That was where their similarities ended: he had his father's nose, cheekbones, chin and ears – his lips were his mother's, but his eyes, too, were the same golden flames his father's were. Holding both in her arms, Hawke cried in joy, and loss.

She bit her lips to rein it in as Fenris asked, "And what of this one? He needs a name as well."

Nodding her head, she whispered, "Kainan," while forcing the emotions back down. "For he shall be a strong warrior."

She hoped her prophecy was right. He was strong; she could tell that from his grasp on her finger. She just hoped the three of them were strong enough for what was to come.

Everyone showed up early. Varric had already received a letter informing him that their ship was ready to depart. They all loaded up and left, and Hawke, holding her babies under her cloak, walked in the middle of the group. They stole out of town like thieves in the night.

The ship Varric procured wasn't big, but it was fast: once they set sail, they made landfall in a week's time. Elizabeth still remembered her and her family's journey to Kirkwall, two weeks locked in a hull. Now that she and her friends had escaped and had free reign, the first thing she did was take the twins to see the ocean. A part of her wished they would run into a Qunari vessel; another part feared it.

She knew Ferelden would be the first place anyone would look for her, so they had chosen Starkhaven first. It was cold. Mountain peaks encased the land, and stones grew from the ground, making it uncomfortable to camp. She feared the babies wouldn't be able to handle the cold like this for long. Finally, they made it to the Starkhaven capital and bought a mansion together in the merchants' district, none really wanting to be alone right now. Hawke took the master suite with her babies, and Fenris and Varric occupied the rooms on either side, for 'protection', they claimed. She knew better: the men had grown so attached to her babes they didn't want to be so far away. Aveline and Donnic took a room on the other side of the house, for 'privacy's sake'. Merrill took to the attic to see views of the town.

All was quiet, mostly, for a few years. There were a few assassination attempts but they were less and less as time moved on. They were poor attempts – whoever hired them obviously couldn't afford good assassins. The twins were two years old when things started to change. First it came in the form of the happy news that Aveline was finally pregnant. Having tried for the last two years and not having any luck, it seemed like the Maker was finally smiling upon them.

That was, until the news broke that the estranged Prince of Starkhaven, Sebastian Vael, returned to claim his birthright. The nobles were in an uproar, there was civil unrest, and Hawke feared for her family. Then it happened: Sebastian won back his throne, and with that news came a letter, sealed with his royal emblem.

_This is the last friendly gesture you will receive from me._

_Leave!_

_Fugitives are not welcome in my city. They will be caught and persecuted as befitting their crime. Yours, being as it is, would be death. Consider this a warning, and heed._

_Vael._

None of her friends received a letter like this. Aveline and Donnic were requested to take up the shield and sword once again, Sebastian offering them jobs in his royal guard. They accepted, moving into the palace shortly after. Varric received an invitation to a ball, which he took. He had planned to talk to the 'King' about what was happening, and Sebastian made it clear he wanted Varric to stay and take over trade in Starkhaven.

Hawke played it off. "It's okay, Varric. It's an honor to be chosen. I'll be leaving the city soon, anyway. The twins need to be somewhere warmer, I think." Varric wasn't fooled. He tried to change her mind but she would have none of it.

Fenris, Merrill, the twins and Hawke left for Antiva City the next evening.

Antiva was a cutthroat city, even more than Kirkwall. Hawke was in constant fear, especially since this was the Crows' backyard, the most notorious band of assassins ever created. Now that she knew she had higher-up enemies, she didn't put it past them to hire such assassins.

She bought a smaller home on the outskirts of the city and they lived unknown for three years. Shortly after arriving in the city, Merrill got lost and stumbled into a handsome Antivan elf named Corey. He was once a Dalish, but was stolen from his home when he was a child and sold into slavery to the Crows. He fell instantly in love with Merrill and her perpetual ramblings. He became their source on the inside, informing them if there were any contracts out on them. There were, but not to the Crows – _yet._ The price was too small right now for them to be bothered.

He also told them that they knew she was here and of the skills she possessed, as well as her 'scary elven lover'. That threw them off.

"_What?_ They think Fenris and I are _lovers?_"

"_Si, mia cara_," he answered.

"Why would they think that?" Hawke asked.

"While your skills are formidable, it is no secret you have not kept up with them. They must not be as sharp as they once were, since they once gave pause to the Crows before, but no more. However, stories of your elven friend here have increased of late, and he is one to give anyone pause, no?" Shrugging his shoulders, Corey continued, "It was not a hard thing to suggest. You live together, he is obviously not your servant or slave, and he watches and protects you. Why it is not so already, I do not know."

Fenris glared at the elf. "I watch her because she is my friend, and for Kaitara and Kainan, _elf_," he growled.

"Yes, hold your tongue, elf!" Kainan commanded from the doorway. His stance and glare would have made an intimidating sight if it were not that he was only five years old, and for the slight lisp that showed when he talked. He was growing incisors like his father's, and trying to learn how to talk with them and not show them at the same time.

"Kainan," Elizabeth scolded. He ignored her as the assassin elf leaned back, laughing.

"Oh, _pequeno guerrero_ –"

He never finished, for he found himself embarrassingly pinned under the little 'pequeno guerrero'. Kainan had, in a split second, charged the assassin, grabbing his mother's dagger off her belt and holding it at the man's throat. The room was quiet for a heartbeat. All were in shock, not having expected Kainan, who was normally shy and quiet, to talk back to an adult, let alone shoot across the room like his father in a burst of speed.

"Oi, easy! I was just teasing your mama! I meant no harm, _pequeno guerrero!"_

Walking up to Kainan as if he were a wild animal, Fenris kneeled next to him. He showed pride in his eyes – he'd been secretly teaching the twins to fight, to protect themselves and their mother – but there was a fear inside his gut. He hadn't taught Kainan to charge like that. Seeing it was a reminder of his sire, and if it brought back memories for _him_, he knew it had to for Hawke, and he knew they weren't all pleasant ones.

He knew a day would come when he had to leave them. He didn't want that day to come, but he knew it was coming soon. Without showing fear, he shook his head in a silent command from teacher to student. Kainan leaned back slowly, and climbed down from the assassin.

"Kainan," came the small, sing-song voice of his sister, who walked to his side and held his hand. It was as if a cloak of peace settled onto Kainan's shoulders, and he relaxed. Flipping the dagger in his hand like a skilled warrior would, he handed it over to his Uncle Fenris. Nodding his head, he turned with his sister and walked out.

Elizabeth was still speechless. She was reliving a passionate night when the Arishok had used his speed boost several times through the evening. They had teased each other, she had acted like she was going to leave, and he had used that same technique to pin her to the wall and make passionate love to her. She felt the red well up on her face. Luckily she knew Merrill didn't see as she was busy checking over Corey.

"You planted that rumor, didn't you, Corey?" Elizabeth asked, frozen in her place, staring at the spot her children were just standing.

"_Si, _for you, _mia cara_, it was imperative to do so," he whispered.

"Why?" Fenris asked.

"Silver giants approach, ones called Qunari. My master's scouts reported scouts for these Qunari looking for a woman close to your description."

"What? Why didn't you say anything before?" All color drained from Hawke's face.

Corey shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, but his eyes betrayed his unease at her tone. "They are asking the wrong questions. None has told so far. My master is inclined to wait to see if they offer a prize."

Walking up to stand face-to-face with him, Hawke spoke in a voice she hadn't used in over five years, the sparks of fire returning to her eyes. "You tell your 'Master' that his reward will be death. Qunari are not known for their patience. You should have told me as soon as you heard!"

"Hawke, we didn't mean –" Merrill started.

"You knew! You knew and said nothing, Merrill?" Hawke yelled. She turned, spitting at the ground at Merrill's feet, and said in contempt, "You have put my children in danger. I have protected you, befriended you when everyone told me not to. You have turned your back on me, too, Merrill."

Fenris, Kainan, Kaitara and Hawke boarded the first ship they could find, which was bound for Rivain. It worried Hawke, going so close to Par Vollen, but Fenris explained that with them looking for her in Antiva now, they had more than likely returned to Kirkwall after hearing she fled and would skim from home out. Rivain should be safe, for now.

It was: no attacks or assassination attempts, no lies or betrayals. It was a peaceful two years. The only problems were normal, everyday family problems. The twins were getting bullied at school, and it didn't help any when both started to grow horns. After they turned seven, things took a turn for the worse again.

Kaitara would come home in tears, sometimes with bruises on her. Hawke would pull her into her lap and tell her what her own father once said.

"Ssh, cry no more, my dove. It is your time to be strong and brave. They fear you, my pet. That is why they do what they have." Grabbing her chin and lifting it, she made Kaitara look her in the eyes. "You are a rare and special gift, child. You come from a strong, superior lineage. And one day, you will return to them and find your true mate. One who loves you for who you truly are and encourages you to flourish and grow. When that time comes, you will know your place and be happy."

"Is that what Papa did for you, Mama?" Kaitara asked. She was ever curious of her sire whom she had never met, and she had seen her mama stare off into another time. Mama had never answered her questions about her papa, until today.

"Yes. I had lost so much, and when I'm sure I would have given up, your papa pushed me. It was never what I pictured when I was your age, Love. We fought all the time, but we respected each other. I loved him no matter what happened, good and bad."

"Why is he not here with us?" asked Kainan, coming through the back door. He deposited a hare he had killed on the counter, already having gutted and skinned it. Their mama nodded in acknowledgement of his kill. Her outstretched arm was invitation enough: he came to her side and rubbed foreheads in greeting with her, then kneeled beside her, waiting on an answer.

"Your father doesn't even know you exist."

"Why?" Kainan questioned, his brow furrowing.

Sighing, Elizabeth figured it must be time. "There was a battle. He and his army were trying to take over the city I lived in. They had lived in the city almost as long as I had. I feared for the few people I had left that I cared about, so I went to talk him down, possibly into leaving the city. It did not turn out as I had hoped. He was sent to the city to find a relic, a precious treasure."

She explained so they would understand. They were not stupid or slow, just young.

"I and some friends fought our way to him, but when I came in he had killed the ruler of the city. They had gathered nobles to make them convert or die as part of their takeover. That meant no nobles left, no one to take over the now-empty ruler's throne," she clarified in response to a quizzical look from Kainan.

"He told me he could not leave without the relic, which a friend of mine had stolen. He would conquer the city then turn his forces out to find her. Uncle Fenris tried to talk him down as well, but the best he got was for your father and I to duel to the death." Pausing at the gasp from Kaitara in her lap, she stroked her back. "It's okay, Dove, I did not accept. I did not have to; the 'friend' that had betrayed me chose then to walk into the room, carrying the relic. She handed it over. There was, however, still a punishment, a price that had to be paid. It was either I hand over my friend, or I fight to the death with your papa. It was hard. Either way, I was losing someone I cared about. But ultimately, I couldn't raise my blade to him. I looked at him and thought of our time together and I just couldn't. I hung my head to hide the tears as I handed over my 'friend'."

Two small foreheads rubbed hers in comfort as silent tears escaped, unnoticed by her. Taking a breath, she finished her story.

"It had not crossed my mind that he would leave too, until I had already conceded. He walked to me to try and say something – what, I don't know. I turned my back to him, not wanting him to see my tears. I felt they were a weakness, and I did not show weaknesses to him. When I finally got my emotions under control it was too late. He had already left. I hadn't known I was pregnant with you two already. I found out a few weeks after that, in another battle, one Uncle Fenris was very upset that I was involved in."

She laughed to herself at the memory of her tattooed elf friend fuming after having finally killed Danarius, his former master. Hawke was severely wounded and, when Anders went to heal her, that was when they all found out that she was expecting a nest soon.

What was interesting was that, despite being trained by Fenris, Kainan had a very different attitude to battle. He became more and more aggressive, picking fights all the time. He would even fight with Fenris. It was small things at first, until it just built and built. Verbal squalls quickly turned into pushing and shoving, then to all-out brawls. Hawke couldn't take the change in her kids anymore, and the final straw came on the twins' eighth birthday.

Kainan and Fenris had started again with the fighting. Fenris always tried not to strike out at him, but Kainan always started it. Kainan lashed out; it was worse than ever, and they fought bitterly until without thinking, Fenris lit up. Hawke feared for her son, stepping between them.

Kainan struck her in the chin, twisting her around, to allow Fenris's ghosting hand into her stomach.

Eyes wide at the sensation of pain, she screamed. It was like dousing the males in ice water. Both of them froze in fear. Kaitara ran to her mother as she fell to the floor, knocking over the table, sending their birthday cake onto the floor as well.

**DUN DUN DUUUUN! What will happen nxt I wonder? **

**Hope you liked, please review, Love you all. Have a great holiday. **


	9. Chapter 9

**So I am sorry for the wait, my Beta reader the amazing Hikari M666! Had sent me the nxt chapter, but it was in another file so I didn't see it til lastnight. whoops ;) any way here it is. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday, been a busy one for me. I'm working on next chapter as we speak. **

**I will apologize for not forewarning anyone about rape scenes or possible ones. I take responsibility for my short coming in doing so. I know it is a very sensitive subject, one I battled with for a while and even second quested writing in. It was NEVER planned in my story, infact this story has taken a life of it's own. The main romance is still Arishok and Hawke, I swear he will come back...(ugh spoiler, but I feel some of you need to know that.) However, Hawke is human and was inexperience when she was with Ari-baby, I think she needs to grow up and experience. I am also aware some of you guys don't like my Hawke (think she is weak) sad you feel that way, but I also think you should honestly keep in mind all she has been through to understand were she is going and coming from. (just sayin) **

**I Promise to address the 'rape' in the beginning that took place... eventually but it is not top priority. Inquisition will become part of the story, but VERY loosely based (seeing as I haven't played it yet) more suprises to come, promise NO MORE RAPE the rest of the story. **

**I hope you guys enjoy the chapter, and I don't own D.A. or anything remotely related to it. Except, Kainan, Kaitara, & Ceilo. ENJOY!**

**Read & Review please!**

"I think it best we leave," Hawke said in a whispered tone to Fenris as they lay in bed together.

After the fight and her passing out, Fenris had moved her to their bedroom. They had finally tried a romantic relationship; it was like breathing with Fenris, easy and comfortable, so routine that sometimes she would even forget they were in a relationship. The only problem they ever seemed to have that caused fighting and tension was Fenris and Kainan's deteriorating relationship. After the fight tonight, Hawke rested on Fenris's shoulder.

"What happened once I was out?" she asked.

"I carried you here. Kaitara had to restrain Kainan as he tried to lift you himself. Not that he lacked strength, but you are a good bit taller than him still and you kept over-ending." Laughing in his throat, Fenris continued, "It was funny, however I feared he'd cause more damage than we already had done." Silence reigned for a few minutes.

"Then what?"

He sighed. "Kaitara had to force Kainan out of the house to cool off. He's been gone for several hours."

Hawke sat bolt upright and the room span. She pushed that aside as she climbed out of bed. "_You didn't go after him? _What if he is lost, or kidnapped, or murdered?"

She was rambling in her fear and panic. Fenris grabbed her wrist, staring into her blue eyes, and waited. He wanted her to stop and think. He loved the twins as if they were his own, but Kainan was becoming trouble. He had just turned eight and had already almost overpowered Fenris. Hawke needed to get Kainan's head on straight; the boy needed a stronger, more stubborn male than Fenris, as much as it pained him to think this. This was his family.

He had always felt something for Hawke, never quite sure if it was love or friendship or brotherly affection. He feared losing them all, and now as he looked into her eyes, he read her answer. It pained him more than he would ever admit. He released his hold on Elizabeth's wrist and nodded, turning away.

He heard her opening drawers and shoving clothes in bags, and grabbing a few pieces of jewelry and some coin. She made sure to leave a substantial amount for him to live on.

She turned to get one more look at her elven friend. He had been there through thick and thin. She knew it was time, had planned this for months now, since she couldn't stand the thought of him or her son getting hurt. She dropped a letter she had pre-written weeks ago on their dresser – no, _his _dresser. She walked down the hall to the kids' rooms; she had packed most of their stuff days ago. She looked at Kaitara, who was sitting on her bed with her knee to her chest when her mother entered. A silent tear fell down the girl's cheek as she climbed off her bed and grabbed her bag from the closet. She met her mother in the hall a few moments later; Elizabeth was carrying her own and Kainan's bags.

The sun was setting as they made for the docks. Amazingly, Kainan was there, waiting, sitting on a large crate next to some freight that was stamped to go to Ferelden and Kirkwall. Hawke looked up at the ship he was sitting next to: it was similar to the one they had fled on all those years ago. Looking back across the dock to where their boat was, she did a double-take. Of all the rotten luck, docking on either side of their ship were Qunari dreadnaughts.

"Shit!" Hawke cursed with real feeling for the first time in years. As she looked on, trying to find another way onto their ship without being seen, several teams of Qunari soldiers disembarked down the ramps onto the dock, heading their way. The twins perked up, noticing the grey-skinned, horned giants. Kainan jumped down from the crate and stood at attention, taking real interest in the newcomers. Kaitara wasn't as excited, but watched and observed the strangers with whom she found similarities.

Hawke missed this, as she was staring at the imposing figure at the bow of the further dreadnaught. He was hard to miss when you knew what you were looking for. He hadn't seen her, that was for sure. She was under no illusion as to whom they were looking for. She pulled out a cloak from her bag, quickly putting it on and pulling it down low over her face.

"Put your hoods on, both of you," she ordered the twins.

Kaitara looked at her. Reading her expression before it was covered by the cloak, she knew her mother was scared. Kneeling down, she opened her bag, quickly following her instructions. Kainan might as well have not heard a word, so enamored by the newcomers that nothing else seemed to matter. Hawke, noticing her son had not cloaked himself, grabbed onto his shoulder just as he started to take a step towards the giants.

"Kainan, they are not here for you. Look at me, son. Whatever follies you have in that mind of yours, forget them now! They are not what they seem. _Listen_ to me, son."

Kainan squirmed in her grip, turning to keep eye contact with the giants. Hawke had enough. She was never one to use force on her children – life would, and had been, doing enough of that already – but these were desperate times. The soldiers were getting closer and in another few seconds they would be able to see details enough to spot that Kainan was Qunari… or in their eyes, Tal-Vashoth. They'd try to kill him on sight and she would have none of that.

Grabbing Kainan's face roughly in her calloused hand, she used some of her strength to turn his face to her as she whisper-yelled at him. "Kainan Cullen Hawke, I said to get your cloak on. Get your bloody cloak on, son, or I will put it on you myself and tie you up in its strings, throw you over my shoulder and parade you around the streets as an _imekari! _Do I make myself clear?"

She was sure the fire in her eyes was back now, as her friends once described it. No one other than the Arishok was able to stand up to it; she didn't doubt that in time Kainan would be able to, but not today. She did not miss the quick spasm of surprise and fear that crossed his face briefly before it was whipped away.

He scrambled with his bag, yanking out the cloak and hastily putting it on, dropping his hood down low. Nodding in approval, only feeling a small amount of guilt, Elizabeth turned to see that the soldiers were nearly on them. The other teams of them were searching the other ships on the dock. There was no way she could get herself and the twins past them and on their ship without the Arishok seeing. Sighing, she grabbed the twins' hands, giving up on her original plan and instead boarding the ship bound for Ferelden.

The deck was bustling with activity, the crew readying the ship to depart immediately, loading their freight in haste. Hawke blessed her stars that she was a rogue and used to blending into the shadows, and she had taught the twins enough to know how to go unnoticed. They snuck on board and drifted below deck, sliding into the captain's quarters. Hawke prayed the whole time that the captain was on deck giving orders to his men. Luckily for them, he was; no one was in the room when they entered.

Elizabeth quickly secured the twins in a wardrobe as she turned and heard footsteps approaching. Facing her children, she whispered in a hushed tone. "No matter what happens, what you hear or see, do not say a word. No sound! Do you understand?"

They nodded their heads. She closed the doors, locking them, then ran across the room. There was no other place to hide. The bed was bolted to the floor with shelves underneath; she couldn't hide there. The twins were in the wardrobe. The only pieces of furniture left in the room were a table and chair that offered no coverage, and a desk. Rolling her eyes, she slid on her knees under the desk just as the door opened.

The captain came in – with a lead Qunari soldier, or a Sten. Hawke thanked the Maker that it was only one Qunari. With all the smells from the salty air, body odor from the crew, cleaning smells and pine oils in the room plus the tar smell that was all over the ship, and now the captain's cigar, she was fairly sure he couldn't sniff her or the twins out.

Looking through a crack in the wooden desk, she could just make out the Sten that stood in front of the desk. The captain was out of view; she looked through the hole at different angles to see him but couldn't find him. A noise behind her had her turning around just in time to adjust so the captain's long legs wouldn't hit her back as he sat down. The only way she could sit was between his spread legs.

Looking up, she had to admire the tall, lean, muscular build of the captain. He was dressed in patched-up, faded clothes, knee-high, dark tan leather boots that laced up in front, light tan britches, a shirt that was once white and now turned a parchment color, and a coal-grey vest. He had long, wavy black hair and dark tanned skin. The mysterious look in his eyes reminded Hawke of Isabela; in fact, his looks overall strangely reminded her of the pirate queen.

Tilting her head in confusion, she didn't notice that her space was being invaded more and more by this man, not until her face was almost brushing up against the front flap of his pants. By then it was too late; she had nowhere else to move. Shocked at being in this position, she remained frozen, listening to the exchange between the men.

"What brings the dreaded Qunari onto my humble abode?" the captain asked in a teasing manner.

Grunting, the Sten replied, "The Qun has a demand you cannot understand, Bas. My role is to find what we seek."

"And seek you must, but why on my ship? Surely the Qun is not interested in mabari pups and cheese bound for Ferelden, or the silks intended for Her Majesty. I already deposited the valuables last night, if you know what I mean." He winked at the Sten. Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the corny pun. The more he spoke, the more she swore he and Isabela were cut from the same cloth.

"Pups and materials don't interest us. We are looking for a woman. One of yours, Bas."

"Hmm, lots of women sashaying about. For the right price they'll be anyone you want."

The captain leaned forward at his desk, forcing Hawke's face right in his crotch. Her hot breath brushed right where his groin was. He paused for a moment before continuing, making no acknowledgement that she was there.

"Ah, but from that look on your face, you're looking for a specific one. I am right, yes? If you'd heard me, I said I did just _unload _last night into a plump, round little thing. Unfortunately I am a fan of the well-endowed type."

As he said this, he snaked his hands down from his lap – and groped Elizabeth's breast. He squeezed slightly at the soft flesh that well overfilled his hands. Elizabeth had no doubt now that he knew she was there, and he was playing with her. Her face flamed red-hot, biting her bottom lip as to not make a sound.

"Near impossible to find a woman with ample bosom and small frame, so you've got to look for the curvier type. Not bad, either. They're like silk pillows, hmm." He smiled devilishly as he pinched one of her nipples before removing his hands. If it weren't for her kids in the room, she'd have taught this lecher a lesson.

There was a loud bang on the desk above her, causing her to jump. "Bas, I am looking for a Basalit-an. She should have an _imekari _with her, one of the Qun." It was silent except for the sound of paper being moved. "Our Arigene drew this from the Arishok's description. She is what we seek."

"Mm, and the _imekari_? What is that to look like?" the captain asked.

"We do not know. It was not birthed before we left."

"Birthed? Maker's breath, are you talking about a child or an animal?"

A growl echoed through the cabin. "A child, as you Bas call them."

Nodding his head, pondering for a moment, the captain looked up at the Sten and smiled. "Sorry, bloke, if I'd be lucky enough to find a beauty like that I'd never let her go. Luckily for you, I haven't. This Arishok fellow was downright mental to have let her escape."

He handed back over the picture. The Sten just stared down at him, not taking it. "Keep it. If you should see her or her _imekari_, notify us immediately."

With that, he turned and left the room. Just outside the open door Elizabeth could hear others informing the Sten that the ship had been searched and nothing was found. She sat still until she heard them leave the ship. Closing her eyes for a moment, she sighed in relief that was short-lived once she opened her eyes to see the captain still sitting in his chair, one hand on the desk, the other reaching to pet her head. She allowed this, and even allowed him to pull her head back to his groin. She gently nudged it with her chin, stirring his member to half-hard life. He groaned in pleasure – right before yelping in pain.

She had bitten him! She bit his member, and it was a pinch bite and bloody hell, it hurt!

"Fuck! Mm, what the fuck was that for?" he yelled, shoving away from his desk so she could climb out. Once out, she crawled on her hands and knees a few feet away to stand up. Turning to yell at him, her eyes caught the Qunari's picture of her.

It took her breath away. Her hands took hold of it from the desk, shaking in surprise and wonder at the artwork. The Sten had said this was from a description by the Arishok. Did he see her like this?

The drawing was her, a few years younger, her long dark hair blowing in the breeze, her face angled up in a proud stance. Her ice-blue eyes crackled like lightning. Her nose was wrong – it was bigger in the picture, more of an aristocratic nose than her button nose. Her lips were full and slightly parted, almost a pout but not quite. Her body was accurate to how she used to be, with gentle curves. Now she had wider and more rounded hips, and her breasts were larger; where they used to just overfill most human men's hands, they could overfill all now and fill up a Qunari's. She had to strap them down just to get into her armor nowadays. She wasn't as skinny as she once was, but she wasn't fat. She had the most sought-after body type: princes and emperors had tried to buy her for her body, nobles and courtesans alike.

"A beautiful drawing of you, but it doesn't do you justice," the captain said in a soft voice, dragging her attention back to him.

She looked him over before asking, "And who are you?"

"Oh, right, where are my manners?" Bowing from the waist, he continued. "Ceilo Black, Pirate King and captain of this here beauty you are standing in. It is the baby of my fleet and my jewel, Isabela." He grinned as Hawke groaned; Maker, was there anyone Isabela _hadn't _slept with? Smiling a roguish grin, Ceilo Black asked, "Met her, have you? I get that response a lot."

"What is with every man's infatuation with her? Truly, I don't get it. Is it because of how little she wears, or how easy she is? I know you men have needs, but the devotion is astounding. Shouldn't you guys like her for a quick tumble, then done? Maybe my mother was wrong about not wanting to buy the cow when you can get the milk for free. I just don't get it. She's not even that pretty."

"Wow, there. Careful what you say about my sister. Beauty or not, I'll turn your perky ass ov–" He was interrupted by Hawke's surprised laugh.

"Sorry, did you say sister?"

He nodded his head, looking at her as if she had grown a second one.

"Sorry, but when I saw you, I thought you reminded me of her. Now it makes sense." Turning, Hawke went to the wardrobe, opening the door to let her twins out. Once they climbed out she heard the gasp from behind her. She saw Ceilo looking at each kid then back at her. It was quiet for a moment before he started laughing.

"Oh, this is rich! No wonder you've slipped past them for so long. Those fools are looking for one, and you've got two. How did you ever manage that? Oh, I want details, and lots of them!" As Ceilo laughed at the sight, one of the children, obviously a boy, stepped towards him threateningly.

"Silence, Bas," he ground out through clenched teeth.

Ceilo paused for a moment, assessing the boy, then laughed harder, nearly over-ending himself. It was cut quite quickly as Kainan speed-charged the captain, only to end up twisted around and pinned to the desk, face down.

"Now, I don't mind the extra hands on deck, but I will say this once, so listen clearly. I am the captain. This is my ship. I have never had a mutiny and never will, and whilst on my ship you will listen and obey my rules. Rule-breakers will be punished. One night a week those with grievances may step forward and attempt to change my mind or ruling with a duel. Only then. At any other time it will meet the most severe consequences. Everyone is to pull their own weight. We are not a passenger ship and there are no fancy quarters. Do I make myself clear?"

There was silence for a moment.

"We thank you for the offer, but we already have a ship waiting for us," Hawke said, trying to breathe through the rage inside her at the man's manhandling of her son.

"Oh? And how are you to get to said ship, swim?" the captain asked, a small amount of teasing back in his voice.

"What do you me–" Hawke was cut off as the boat rocked hard for seemingly being docked. She ran across the cabin to look out the porthole, only to see the shrinking shore and dock, its many ships fading away, Turning back quickly, she ordered, "You must turn back around at once!"

"Sorry, Kitten. No can do. Re-porting costs money and time and will raise those grey giants' suspicions. Unless you want to go to them and be put at their mercy, I suggest you stay put."

"She said to re-port!" Kainan snapped, struggling in Ceilo's hold; he stopped just as quickly when Ceilo applied pressure on the arm behind his back. This caused him to cry out in pain, something he'd never done in all his fights with Fenris.

"Let go of him!" Hawke ordered as she swung at the captain. She lasted a little longer than her son, but she too ended up pinned; not on the desk this time, but in an iron grip, crushed against Ceilo's chest, angled so she could not hit any tender areas.

"Bloody stubborn fools, do I really have to repeat myself?" Sighing, he looked over to the third figure, still standing near the wardrobe, cloak pulled down to mask its face. "If you are this uncivilized –"

"_Uncivilized? _How dare you, you pompous ass –" Hawke started yelling in Ceilo's ear before she was interrupted by a loud, high-pitched whistle in her ear.

"Yes, I called you uncivilized. Name-calling will get _you _nowhere but bent over my knee, Vixen." Grinning widely, he continued in a hushed tone. "Didn't like that, I bet. Your ears are probably still ringing. Next time you want to yell in my ear, remember my mouth is right next to yours, beautiful. I've spent my life yelling orders over a loud, rambunctious crew and the roar of the sea, so you aren't likely to overpower me. This is your last warning. Any more trouble from you, and I'll see personally to your punishments. You understand, sweet cakes?"

"Stop calling me those names. I have a perfectly good name."

"Oh? And what is it, _dearie?_"

"Elizabeth Hawke."

"Oh, blimey."

He didn't look happy to hear her name, or to hold her much longer: he released her, shoving her across the room away from him.

"You're the Champion of Kirkwall, aren't you? Should have guessed that when the Qunari were looking for you." He said this with disdain as he pulled Kainan up from the desk, ripping his cloak all the way off to see his little horns and the eyes of the Arishok. "I'm guessing '_imekari_' means 'child'. Judging by the eyes alone, I'd say he was the Arishok's. You stole their Arishok's son? Issy was right: you do have a death wish."

"I didn't steal them! They are _my _children," Hawke growled. Ceilo ignored her as he swiftly walked over to the other small, cloaked figure, snapping that hood off as well. He paused as he took the girl in. She was breathtakingly beautiful, a foreign beauty, with her clear pale skin with just a hint of silver, her white flowing hair and the tiny gold- and silver-vined horns, but it was her face that drew him in. It was Hawke's face: large, glistening, crystal blue eyes, button nose and full, pouty lips. She would become a heartbreaker; many men would kill for her or in her name when she was older. She must be protected. Even on his ship she was in danger. Both females were. It was a bad omen to have women on a ship. Some of his crew would not take kindly to this, but his more seasoned men would know to trust and not question their captain.

"So I see." Turning back to Hawke, he approached her. "Messere Hawke, I cannot turn around. Trust me when I say none regret that more than I. Seeing as you are in possession of what the entire Qunari people are after… I have had dealings with them before. They will not stop. They are a stubborn people, single-minded, I would say. Whether you stole them or not, I do not care. You are on my ship; if caught with you or them, I'm as good as dead, as are my men, you understand? I risk a great deal for you – even after what you did to my sister."

Seeing the shock on her face, he nodded with a devilish grin.

"Oh, yes, I know. You betrayed her to the grey giants. If it were not for me, she'd be breeding those oxmen. I happened to be selling wares when I heard about a Qunari prisoner fitting a description that matched my sister. I hadn't heard from her in some time. I looked into it, and imagine my surprise to see her, stripped naked, chained to a post in the middle of the Arishok's office! I passed her a lock-picking kit and then disappeared. They made no connection between me and her disappearance, and she told me all that happened."

"She betrayed me."

"But she came back! Do you not know how rare that was? She was finally healing, learning. You destroyed any hope for it to happen again."

"She betrayed me more than once! I forgave her after she accepted the offer of a demon, literally, but not the second time. She lied to me from the beginning. She could have told me the truth at any time after she knew me. We were friends. I trusted her, I treated her like a sister. She chose fear of Castillon and a relic over me and our friendship! I loved her. She used that and twisted it."

"For the first betrayal she didn't really know or trust you. It was how you reacted to that betrayal that had her opening up to you. She loved you, and she _adored_ you. She would write to me about the mighty Hawke. For the longest time I thought you were a guy she had finally allowed herself to fall in love with. Until she sent a description of you, that is. 'Voluptuous bosom' kind of gave it away. As for the second betrayal… I know she was wrong. She should have told you the truth, but she feared what you'd do. You did exactly what she thought: you handed over the relic and her as well."

"_She _handed over the relic, not I. I didn't know they would want her as well."

"She did. She said you were blind to all else. Your love for _him _made you so. She knew as soon as he and Fenris made the arrangement of either a duel to the death or her, the answer wasn't hard to guess."

"No. I guess it wasn't." Hawke looked out the window, remembering that time in the keep's throne room. The look on Isabela's face… She couldn't it remember much. All she remembered was the Arishok's. Maybe Issy was right. Maybe she had been blinded by her feelings then, and now. She didn't ponder long on this; her attention was snapped back as Ceilo clapped his hands and walked behind his desk again. He picked up up a rolled-up volume of parchment, opening it and starting to write.

"Okay, so Elizabeth, do you have another name to go by? One the Qunari don't know?"

"Yes. Carrie."

"Good, Carrie it is. Are you good at anything that would be of use on a ship?"

"Uh, other than giving orders or fighting?"

"Nope, can't have that. It's my job, captain and all. Oh, can you cook?"

"Yes."

"Fabulous. You will be our new cook. Old one up and died on us, the ungrateful bugger. And the kids?"

"Kaitara," the girl introduced herself.

"Okay. Kaitara, what can you do?"

"I… can see."

Was that all she said? Ceilo looked up at Hawke, confused.

"Kaitara has a gift. She can see the future before it happens. It's never set in stone, and it only works on things close by." Already Hawke was regretting saying that.

"Is she a mage?" Ceilo asked.

"No," Hawke replied quickly. "Just a gift for foresight."

"Okay, then… Kaitara… I'll post you up with me and our navigator. Now you." He pointed his quill at Kainan. Kainan just glared at him in defiance.

"Kainan," Kaitara answered for him.

"Kainan, fitting. You will be under my first, Ser Drakon. You will do what he says when he says it. Any funny business and he will punish you. Get too far out of line and I'll deal with you myself. Understood?"

Kainan nodded his head.

"Good. Now to show you to your quarters." With that, Ceilo rose and walked out the door with the three following behind.

It wasn't the grandest, but in equal measure it wasn't the poorest place they had ever stayed. The room was small, just down the hall from the captain's and first mate's quarters. Small though it was, it was private and had a door that locked. Everyone else on the ship bunked in the hold of the ship together.

(Weak of heart don't read this nxt paragraph, just so you know she has not been raped.)

There was no privacy there. It smelled and the men had wandering eyes and hands, which were quickly stopped between Hawke running a knife through one of the men for daring to touch her daughter, and the captain for killing three more men (new crew members, perhaps). He had walked down to the kitchens to ask about preparations on dinner, to find Hawke pinned to the cutting board, hands tied behind her back and the men fondling and groping her. Her children, luckily, were not there to witness it. Without thought or sound, Ceilo pulled his sword from its scabbard and ran the three men through. Hawke felt the hands leave her and heard a soft thud. She turned to look and, finding the three men dead at her feet, she looked up and met the captain's eyes. They stared, unmoving for a moment, before he came over and cut her bindings.

"Does this always happen?" he asked. His tone suggested he was teasing, a joke, but his eyes were filled with fire and anger. She was not used to seeing that in another. Stunned, she answered him honestly.

"It has happened once or twice before, with the same lot. Most others won't go near me other than for meals, let alone touch me. Thank you." She didn't notice the silent tear falling down her cheek until Ceilo leaned forward, kissing it away. She gasped in shock. He just smiled impishly.

"It's a sin to let a rare and lonely tear fall from a beauty such as you." He stared for a moment more before his senses kicked into gear. "I – uh – I apologize. That was presumptuous of me. It won't happen again. Don't want to be on the other side of your sword." He grinned shyly then turned around and left the kitchens, forgetting why he had gone down there to begin with.

He missed her shy smile and rosy cheeks as her hand touched the place that still tingled where his lips had touched.


	10. Chapter 10

**As promised, no rape..this is a shorter chapter...leading into Some fun times ahead!**

**hope you enjoy, thanks to my AMAZING Beta reader, who pushed out not only this chapter but a special piece for you guys as well. the same time! She a beast!**

**I don't own any Dragon Age, origin, awakwaning, or 2. nor Inquisition. I do however own, Cielo, Drakon, Shamous, & twins- Kaitara & Kainan. so :P nah!**

Over the last few days since the captain found her in the kitchen pinned by the three men, Hawke had noticed a change in him. He came around more, and when he wasn't around he had his first, Ser Drakon, watch her and her children. Though she appreciated the gesture, it didn't sit right with her. She was once the Champion of Kirkwall. Since when had she become this simpering, fragile creature that let others fight and protect her?

"He cares for you."

It was not a question, but a statement. Hawke turned to the soft voice in the doorway. It was her daughter. Of all people, she didn't want her children exposed to this.

"You care for him as well," she stated again. Not a question.

"What nonsense are you spewing now, Kaitara?" Hawke tried to brush it off. The tingling down her spine was a telltale sign that Kaitara was probing her for truth.

"You are telling mistruths."

"Lies, Kaitara. They're called lies," Hawke whispered in correction. Her daughter was very smart, too smart for her age, and she saw more than she should have. Turning back to cutting vegetables for a veggie fish stew tonight, she tried to act as if her daughter wasn't still standing there watching her with her penetrating stare.

"Why do you lie?" Kaitara asked as if it was any normal everyday conversation.

"I do not lie, Kaitara."

"Yes, you do. I feel it, Matra."

Kaitara's word for 'mother' always broke Hawke. She knew the Qunari didn't have an actual word for mother or father: when _imekari _were born they were given to other Qunari to raise by a select few, the teachers. Breeding Qunari never raised their own. When the teachers took over, they taught the _imekari _everything under the Qun. They also watched and reported to the Tamassran any individual who stood out, either by exceeding their tests or failing. Those tests helped to place the _imekari _where they belonged so they could flourish under the Qun.

Hawke had taught as much as she knew, even learning more on her travels, all so she could prepare them for the day _he _came for them. She had no illusions about him taking them; she knew her time with her children was limited.

Sighing in defeat, Hawke's shoulders dropped. "Kaitara, it is not for you to know these things. I lie to protect you and your brother. What I do, I do because I must." She finally turned to look her daughter in the eye. "I am not ready to lose you yet," she said in a pained whisper.

If there was more to say, or if Kaitara had more to ask, it was all stalled as Shamous came barreling into the kitchen, yelling for Hawke.

"Mistress Carrie, it's your son. He has challenged Ser Drakon to a duel!" He was breathing heavily from running, and sweat dripped off his nose and the rest of his body. Hawke's eyes bulged in fear then, grabbing Kaitara's hand, she ran up the winding stairs to the top deck – just in time to see her son surrounded by the crew, facing off with Drakon.

"What is the meaning of this?" she yelled to no one specifically. A sailor answered:

"Once a week the captain lets us men fight out our grievances, either with him or each other. In a show of the code of honor, we duel. No life is to be taken, but one challenges the other. The challengee gets to choose the style of duel – fisticuffs, duel weapons, archery, sword-and-shield, or two-handed weapons. Your boy challenged Ser Drakon, so Ser Drakon chose good ol' fisticuffs."

"This is not acceptable. He is but a child." She walked right in the middle of the ring between her son and danger. Glaring at Drakon, she challenged, "How dare you attempt to fight a boy?"

"Stand down, Carrie," came the velvety smooth voice of the captain.

"I will not. You allowed this _man _to challenge my eight-year-old son to a fistfight!" she yelled.

"When you first came on this ship I warned you about this, as I did him. He was the one who challenged. Drakon can't back down and hold himself, his honor and duty before this crew if he were to back down to him."

"He is a child!"

"He is young, yes, but he is strong."

"He will not fight."

"He must. He dropped the gauntlet. Even if I could, I would not stop this."

"Then I will fight in his place."

"No, you won't. You will shame him. He also will not learn if you keep coddling him."

"I do not _coddle_."

"Yes, you do."

"I do not!"

"You do, Carrie. He will fight. He will prove himself, or learn to respect those who are better than him."

Reaching out, Ceilo grabbed her hand and pulled her with him out of the way. He walked up a few steps to his seat, a makeshift throne. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. Kaitara, who had still been in Hawke's grasp, came as well. But she sat in her usual spot on the arm of the chair. Both sat straight, backs erect and poised. He felt Kaitara trying to see ahead and knew she was looking to see if her brother won. Hawke was tense. Ceilo rubbed her arm in a soothing motion.

"Have faith. He will be fine. You'll see," he whispered to them both. It amazed him how neither female trusted that Kainan was strong or stubborn enough to fight and win.

The fight began. All three cringed at the first few hard hits Drakon got in on the boy. Kainan took the hits full-on. When he got knocked down he stood back up and shook it off before continuing. A left, a jab, an uppercut… at one time Kainan saw stars and heard ringing in his ears. Shaking his head to dislodge the discomfort, he danced around Drakon. He was light on his feet; that dance lasted until Drakon went to knee him after a hard right to the face. On a normal person, that knee would have hit them in the solar plexus, but at Kainan's height it hit him in the jaw. There was a loud crack and he flew back, twisting in the air, landing with a jarring thud.

It was silent for a moment before Hawke rushed to him. She slid to a stop, cradling him in her arms. He got his bearings as the captain stood between them and Drakon. He looked down at Kainan with compassion and respect in his eyes. "Do you yield?" he asked.

Kainan took a large breath, then exhaled it as he tried to stand. Hawke pulled him down to her. "No, you're done," she claimed.

He shook his head, then rose to his feet, breathing deeply to calm his heart and center his focus.

"No, you're not fighting again!" Hawke yelled.

"Matra, it is not your place to decide. It is mine, and I fight." He spoke low and calm. There was respect in his voice, but also determination. Before Hawke could protest more, Captain Ceilo grabbed her and returned them to his seat. He signaled for the match to continue.

This time, it was Drakon who found himself on his back in a few seconds, out cold. At the signal from the captain, Kainan had solely focused on Drakon and charged at him with his super speed. He placed two quick hits to his person, one on the left temple and the other on Drakon's jaw. He was out before he hit the floor. The captain stood, coming and checking on Drakon. Seeing he was all right, just out, he declared Kainan the winner.

"As is custom, you receive a boon. What will it be?" Ceilo asked Kainan.

"To fight you."

He said it so calmly that the men around him, including the captain, laughed. Ceilo quieted, though, as he saw the boy was serious.

"You're serious?" he verbalized. Kainan nodded his head in confirmation. "You know, if I accept, it will not be an easy battle. You will have to come at me with more than speed. I don't think you're ready yet. I have never been beaten, bar once."

"By whom?" Kainan asked. "So I may ask how."

The boy was so smart Ceilo often forgot he was only eight. "By the very one who sired you. Your father."

"Arishok," Hawke whispered. The captain didn't want to say his name. He wasn't sure if the children knew who their father was, but he felt they needed to know more than their mother was telling. He looked up at Hawke as she waged a battle in her mind. She looked at Kainan and nodded.

"I've fought him several times," she said in a soft voice. "He taught me to beat him. I will teach you."

Kainan turned in shock and joy to his mother. He bowed his head in respect then walked away to his sister. Captain Ceilo came, grabbing Elizabeth's hand and pulling her with him to his cabin. He dismissed the crew, promising to finish the games tonight after dinner. Once inside, he pulled her around, looking at her as if she were crazy.

"Why now? I thought you didn't want him to fight," he queried.

"You were right. I have been coddling them both. I have let fear cow me, change me into someone I don't recognize. I was once a strong, proud rogue, and now I'm a frightened, pleading mess. If my son wishes to fight, then I will teach him." Breathing in, she braced herself. "I am done running scared. I want the old Hawke back. I want the Champion back."

He saw what it cost her to admit this. Gently he brushed her hair from her face. He leaned down and grazed her lips with a soft kiss. "You are strong, stronger than you think."

He deepened the kiss before she could say anything else. She was lost in the deep sensations he was flooding into her system. He backed her up to his bed, kissing her lips and jaw, and licking her throat. She moaned and purred in pleasure, lost in the moment.

"So, what does this mean?" she asked, not entirely sure she was ready for a commitment yet. She needn't have worried, though: as soon as her question was out Ceilo laughed a deep, throaty chuckle.

"Oh, my pet, that was wonderful, but I am captain. I cannot take advantage of my crew. This is nice, but that is all it can be."

"Which is?" she asked, slightly stung from his teasing.

"Fun, pleasurable, delicious – but nothing more. A mutually beneficial exchange, nothing more."

"So… bed buddies?" she said, one part of her happy at the distance, the other hurt, hoping for more.

"Yes, bedfellows, friends with benefits, or whatever else you might call it. Are you okay with that?" he asked the silent, tense woman in his arms. He waited for what felt like an eternity before she answered.

"I – yes. That's fine." Hawke moved to get up out of bed and get dressed, but Ceilo grabbed her wrist, pulling her back.

"Whoa, who said I was done?" he asked in a rakish voice that pulsed low in her abdomen. He brought her back, kissing her deeply until the whole ship rocked violently and creaked an unholy sound.

Pulling apart, they both stared at each other in fear. They jumped out of bed, quickly dressing just as banging started on his cabin door. Ceilo's first was there. Drakon looked pale and bruised from his earlier fight, but what worried Ceilo was the utter terror in his eyes. For a moment he feared it was the Qunari having chased them to collect Hawke and the twins.

"Capt–" was all Drakon could say. He didn't know how to describe the monstrosity above, or what had happened in the sky. He turned on his heels and ran back up on deck. Ceilo and Hawke followed, stopping to take in the sight.

The sky had a massive tear in it. Eerie green light pulsated out of it, and there were dragons and monsters falling from inside. The tear looked to be far away, somewhere over land, but the waves seemed to respond to it. They rose in fright and smashed against the ship's deck.

"All hands on deck! Drop the sails, strap them down! Strap down the cannons, bar the ship, tie the wheel!" Ceilo yelled his commands in confidence that they would be followed. He walked to the wheel and navigation table. He looked about; his orders were almost finished being carried out, his first giving more direct, detailed orders. Sending the unseasoned sailors below deck to strap in, he saw Drakon pushing Kaitara and Kainan below deck.

If he hadn't been watching this, he would have missed the foreboding, deep growl sound that came from below their feet, just as a huge tentacle rose high above the ship. It paused in the air for a moment as he heard screaming from next to him. Drakon turned and dived out of the way as the tentacle smashed down, crushing one of his new crew members and dragging him into the water.

"Open the cannon ports, load and wait on my order to fire!" Ceilo bellowed. His men scurried to follow the orders. Ceilo pulled his sword out of its scabbard on his belt and he attacked the next tentacle to come close to him and Hawke. Hawke rushed over to the stairs, running down around them until she was at the weapons closet. She broke the lock and started pulling out weapons, joined a second later by Drakon and a few other crew members. She found herself a sharp pair of daggers and a bow and arrows. She strapped the bow and arrows to her back and ran up the steps with the daggers in her hands. She leapt, sinking them deep into the creature.

The roar it made was ungodly, cold and pissed, sending ice into Hawke's veins. She and Ceilo continued to hack at it, and finally the tentacle, almost detached, retreated under the water. Looking over her shoulder, she saw similar fights all over the ship, but when she saw her children together fighting a tentacle, fear shot through her like nothing she had ever felt before. She jumped off the upper deck and charged across, attacking with all her might, tapping into the strength and skills the Arishok had taught her. With one quick swing of her blade, she severed the tentacle. It flopped on the deck behind her.

The ship rocked violently as all the remaining tentacles plunged back into the water. All was quiet for a few moments. Hawke knew it wasn't the end, as did Kainan, Kaitara and Ceilo. Others thought it was a victory and shouted in triumph, only to stop as they noticed Hawke and the twins backing away in apprehension.

The water around the ship sank down as if being sucked or swallowed. A massive shadow covered the ship; a demon worse than any nightmare could create rose from the deep – sharp, pointy teeth and purple, swollen flesh opening in anticipation of food. It stopped only as a large ice blast hit it, followed quickly by several Walking Bombs thrown down its throat. Ceilo and his navigator were throwing bombs and poisons. The navigator started a chant, then shot a massive, strong freezing spell. He then conjured a lightning storm from his fingertips, pointing at the monster. The lightning sliced open several wounds on the demon's skin.

"Everyone hit the deck!" Ceilo yelled as he dived over the railing onto Hawke and the twins, covering them with his body as an ear-piercing screech and a loud bang were heard. The ship rocked again, almost tipping. Everyone who wasn't tied down rolled to the far end of the ship; a few fell over into the sea. Ceilo held on tight to the bodies in his arms.

The ship righted itself. Everyone stayed where they were for a few more minutes to be sure. Finally, the navigator stood, calling all clear to the captain. He rose, helping Hawke and the twins up.

"It's okay, it's over now," he reassured. He didn't know why, but he felt the need to do so.

"The monster, yes, but not _that_," Hawke said as she angled her chin to the sky – and the rip in it.

"No, not that."

She knew people had searched for her before, hoping she could fix their problems. And now with a giant hole in the sky, she knew they'd be looking for her again, in earnest this time. But this time she didn't think she'd get the option to run and hide or decline. She knew that whatever this was, it wasn't just going to go away, and she had a feeling she was going to be getting involved somehow.

This strengthened her resolve to go to Ferelden, where she could be with Ali and Ashley, the Heroes of the Blight.

**Don't forget to read & review. **

**Also I'm posting a 'one shot' of this story up...It's just a twist on what happened. I encourage you to read it.**

**It's call "What might have been"...I think it's self explanitory. enjoy :) new chapter coming soon, it's mostly writen i'm at the end of the chapter, but it's being stubborn on finishing right. It will be sent to my beta tomorrow though! Promise. :)**


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